


One of The Terrible Things

by Xazz



Series: Flocking Movement [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Antichrist, Apocalypse, Army, Atlantis, End of the World, F/M, Gen, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Slow Burn, Tragedy, War, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 286,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis has risen. But maybe it isn't as bad as it seems when Desmond returns. Its different now though, he's different. The future will come to pass and it will depend on his anger, and his mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epigraph

“Terrible things happen to good people every day.

Consequentially, I am not one of the good people.

I am one of the terrible things.”

-Marianna Paige


	2. Change of Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back a bit earlier than expected for the last installment of Flocking Movement. When I get obsessed with a thing I really get obsessed with a thing. Won't be so focus fire on this story like I was for Triad though, I want to keep up with some of my other stories still (or attempt... an attempt is being made okay, I promise)
> 
> But yeah. Welcome back to Flocking Movement, I'm super excited, I hope you are too. Time to finally get some questions answered. If only Ubisoft would do that.

The heat was intense. Even an ice age couldn't stop the Sahara from being hot as shit in the middle of the summer, or dry as a bone. The hot air created great dust storms on the plains land that stopped everything in its tracks for miles, even the animals and proeathan ships grounding themselves to get out of the dust. For a few months of the year, nothing grew, and even the plantations didn’t bother to try and force life from the parched land.

But the air was clear today, the sky a magnificent shade of blue. A lone figure walked across the plains to a shallow lake, which as swollen still from the spring rains and winter thaw. They were covered head to toe, not even their eyes exposed, but their height and swift gait betrayed them as a man. They wore a large pack on their back but it didn’t seem to slow him down for he walked quickly towards the shallow lake, startling wading birds there, a leopard who was lying in the shade of one of the trees that lined the edge of the lake eyed him with a sleepy gaze.

Upon arriving at the lake the man removed one of his gloves and crouched, dipping his hand into the shallow murk. His hand was covered in glyphs that glowed a gentle teal color where it touched the water. "Little pig, little pig, let me in," the figure said, teasingly.

"I believe," a female voice, round and matronly, said,, "that the rest of it goes 'not by the hair on my chinny chin chin'."

The man chucked, "And the rest?" he asked.

"Or I'll huff and I'll puff," a deep, echoey, man’s voice said, "and I'll blow your house in."

The man grinned behind the head scarf covering his face, but not showing even in his eyes as they were covered by protective, mirrored, goggles. "Yeah, something like that. Now open up Demeter, it's hot out here and I don't have all day." Then the man stood up and put his glove back on as the lake opened. Birds went flying and the leopard got to their feet in interest.

A pathway formed in the shallow lake water, raising up through the muck and silt to come right below the water. The man walked across the shallow bridge to the open hole and to see him from afar it would have liked like he was walking on water. At the top of the hole that led down into the earth there was a disk protruding from the side, the man stepped onto it. “Should they be informed?” the matron asked.

“Nah, let them be surprised,” the man scoffed as the disk started to descend. As it did the lake closed up over him.

“Well they’re in a bit of a state,” she said.

“They can afford to be in a bit of a state. They’ll live.”

There was a pause, “That was a terrible joke,” said a new voice, a young woman, robust and yet annoyed with him.

He chuckled, “Not like you’re the best company, and the others _so_ don’t get my humor,” he sighed.

“They try,” the girl said.

He said nothing and the elevator continued down and down and down into the darkness and then it abruptly changed directions and started moving horizontally. The man didn’t seem to care and just waited patiently.

“Hello,” Demeter’s voice was lovely as she greeted the man as the elevator stopped at a large, cavernous, room with a tall pillar in the center. The pillar had round holes in it and there were fifteen of them, though one had already been filled. “Over here,” the AI appeared before the man and beckoned him towards the pillar.

“So after this I’m done with this, right?” the man asked.

“With this part,” Pluto said, walking next to the man.

“Of course,” the man sighed. “What’s the others’ ETA?’ he asked as he got in front of the pillar and unslung the pack. Metal thunked against itself and the ground.

“Hey! Be careful with that,” Mercury’s shrill, childish, voice said, though he sounded very concerned as well.

“They should be here later tonight,” Demeter said.

“Good,” the man said, “So where’s this go?” he asked picking out a large, spherical, device from the pack. Demeter directed him to which hole went to which sphere. He had five in total, each fitting neatly into the holes.

“So you know, they’re coming,” Pluto said at one point.

“Of course they are,” the man said.

“You really should have just done it the other way,” Pluto said sternly.

“I wanted to get this done first and I won’t be able to move even until I get done with them and who _knows_ when that’ll be. So, work first, play second.”

Pluto eyed him a moment, then he smiled slightly, “I think they’ll have a nice surprise.”

The man left the pillar and headed for the exit as directed, getting onto another lift and being taken away. When the lift came to a halt he was greeted by a bunch of people with guns. He raised his hands. “I’m not proeathan,” he said.

“Stand down,” someone said behind them and the gunmen lowered their weapons and parted at who’d spoken. “Who are you?” Ezio asked, “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

“Wow, you’re seriously off your game old man,” the man said. Ezio’s brow furrowed in confusion. Ezio had cut his hair since the last time they’d met, and shaved off his winter facial hair.

“ _Excuse me_?” he asked.

The man lifted his goggled up to show his eyes, “Recognize me now?” he asked and Ezio’s face went totally slack and his eyes widened, his mouth opening a bit, looking completely stunned.

“D-Desmond?” he asked.

“Hey,” Desmond said, grinning.

“Sir?” one of the gunmen asked, “Who is that?”

“Where have you been!” Ezio yelled and Desmond laughed, a great, robust, fully body laugh when Ezio suddenly grabbed him up and hugged him, lifting him off the ground an inch or two.

“Missed you too,” and he hugged Ezio back, smacking his back a few times.

“Sir?” someone asked, the soldiers looked so bewildered, and not a little freaked out.

“Its all right everyone,” Ezio said, turning towards them, waving them all. “False alarm. Good response time though, everyone did very well. Return your gear and get back to what you were doing.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes I’m sure, go on,” and he shooed them. After a moment the soldiers did leave, but looked over their shoulders warily after that. “Where the _hell_ have you been kid? And what are you wearing?”

“Its easier this way,” Desmond said, his goggles still on the top of his head. “Who were they?” he asked.

“Minutemen, Hawk’s idea, in case anything happened.”

“Ah.”

“Now you come with me, everyone’s gonna wanna see you.”

“And ask like five thousand questions,” Desmond sighed.

“Well, you have been gone almost six months,” Ezio said, looking at him with a knife slash mouth. “Lots of questions need to be answered, and you should just answer them once and not five times.”

“Sounds good to me,” Desmond said, “Though I’m really looking forward to a shower and a soft bed.”

Ezio chuckled, “I’m sure,” he said.

Ezio led him through Demeter, clearly knowing his way around. Some people gave them a look but didn’t say anything. They’d know if they needed to. “And I have some questions too,” Desmond said, seeing all the people, the soldiers from before, the clear army his ancestors has trained.

“Of course,” Ezio said and they came to a door which irised open. It looked like a war room and clearly everyone of importance was there. Altair, his hair cut down to a fine buzz; Hawk, who’s hair had only gotten longer and he wore in a braid over his shoulder; Jake who looked the same, same dumb haircut, same dumb look on his face; and Clay who Desmond hadn’t seen in years and had shaved it all off like Altair. Shaun was also in there, he still looked too old, and there was _more_ white in his ginger hair. Last was someone his eyes went to first and his heart swelled. Lucy. She’d cut her hair and Desmond thought she looked even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her.

“Is this the intruder?” Altair asked, standing up from his place at a table where they seemed to be monitoring the situation.

“Yes,” Ezio said, sounding amused.

“Though one thing, not an intruder,” Desmond said.

“You infiltrated our base, I think that counts,” Altair said, narrow eyed.

Desmond looked at Ezio, “Was he always this touchy?” he asked. Ezio snorted.

Altair paused, taking in what he was looking at, “What?” he asked.

“ _Man_ ,” Desmond sighed, “Alive for a few centuries, still stupid, all of you,” Desmond said.

“Excuse me?”

Desmond looked at Ezio, “I think he’s rubbing off on you Ezio,” he said and they reached up to the wraps he had wound around his head and face he’d done to keep the sand and dirt and off his face and the dry wind from chapping his skin. “Or maybe you’re rubbing off on them since I don’t remember you all being so stupid,” and he started to take off the wraps. He revealed his hair first, hair he needed to cut soon, it was too long for his liking, and then his forehead where the glyphs started. They’d progressed onto his neck and face a few months ago and now covered his entire body from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his skull and the palms of his hands.

He enjoyed the surprise on all their faces as he continued to take off the wrap, unwinding it from across his nose and the sides of his head and then his mouth and chin. “Still think I’m an intruder?” Desmond asked once he’d finished uncovering his head and face. Everyone was staring at him. “What? Something on my face?” he asked, though that was a bit of a trick question since he had about six glyphs on his face, one that even crossed the line of symmetry on his nose.

Jake was the first one to not look stupid and figure out how to use his voice, “Shut up, Desmond,” and that made him laugh.


	3. The Flock

Everyone literally started talking at once, bombarding Desmond with questions, demands. All wanting answers, all wanting to know what had happened, where he’d been. Desmond felt them ping off him like radar and he let them come. For a minute at least before raising his hands, “Okay, quiet,” and he didn’t even have to raise his voice, everyone just sort of petered out. “I can’t hear everyone at once. One question at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” Altair said, and he wasn’t the only one nodding.

“Jake, you first.”

“What the fuck man?”

“That was a statement, not a question, moving on,” Desmond said, “Hawk, you next.”

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” he asked.

Desmond didn’t answer right away, “Everywhere,” he said, “I went up to the western coast of Canada, then to eastern Asia across the ice bridge that connects Alaska and Russia. I went through Asia, across Europe, and eventually made my way here. Took me a while. I walked a lot of it, or found things to drive. Altair, you get the next one,” he said.

“What happened to your face?” and Altair sounded so sincerely worried about it.

Desmond just shrugged, “Not really sure honestly,” he idly scratched his cheek, the glyphs on his face weren’t just light now. Raising Atlantis had scarred them into his flesh, so even when they didn’t glow they were raised up from the rest of his skin. “Cosmetic skin alterations. Not quite sure what it is. And its all over, not just my face. Ezio, next.” He was glad they were all being so orderly.

“What were you doing in Demeter’s Core?”

“Putting the others in there. I stopped by the other AI bases,” he grabbed a chair and finally sat down with a sigh, that felt good. “Carried Mercury and Artemis all across Asia with me, and lemmie tell you, Mercury; fucking asshole.”

“Fuck you Desmond,” Mercury suddenly chimed in.

“Shut up, kid,” he said. “Clay, you can go next.”

“Where’s Atlantis?” Clay had been staring at him the entire time. “Why did you raise Atlantis?”

“Because I needed to,” Desmond said, and before he’d been relaxed, now he went hard. “And its in the middle of the Sargasso Sea.”

“But _why_?” Clay stressed.

“Because I need to go there,” Desmond said. Clay didn’t look satisfied, but too bad. “Shaun, you can ask a question now,” he said.

“Why didn’t you announce yourself?” he asked, “You didn’t need to go skulking about around here.”

“Because I knew if I came in the front door it would have taken me too long to get to the Core Room because I would have needed to have this conversation. And I just wanted to finish something before starting another thing.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Would have been nice to have a warning.”

Desmond smiled, “I wanted to surprise you. And trust me, for the look on all your faces when you saw me it was _well_ worth it,” and Shaun wasn’t the only one who rolled their eyes at him. Then he turned his gaze on Lucy and she swallowed, “You’re last,” he said.

“Can I talk to you after this whole thing? In private?”

“Of course,” and that was an easy question to answer. Talking wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do in private either. “You got a not stupid question Jake?” he asked.

“If you’ve been all over the place, how’d you find us? We haven’t had any correspondence with you in six months.”

“The AIs guided me,” he said. “They still talk to each other.”

“How did you get in?” Jake asked quickly.

“I told Demeter to open the front door, obviously. And that was two questions, its Hawk’s turn now.”

“How aware of the situation here are you?”

“You mean about the fun you’ve been having while I’ve been gone? I know. Four plantations take overs in six months is impressive. The proeathans are _super_ pissed and they don’t know how you’ve done it. Frankly I think its amazing, since I saw one of the factories in southern Asia, and I don’t even know where I’d start with liberating it.”

“We had an ace they didn’t account for,” Altair said, “also its really disheartening for soldiers to watch the people they just shot and killed get back up again to continue fighting them. They didn’t even see us coming.”

“How do you know the proeathans know?” Hawk asked, as sharp as always.

“I met some,” Desmond said. The questions started all at once again, “Woah, woah, calm the hell down,” Desmond cried.

“What do you mean you _met some_?”

“I mean I met some,” Desmond said then he sighed. “And actually, they’re coming here.”

“Desmond! This base is secret, the proeathans have never been able to find it because they don’t know where Demeter is and you’re going to just _let them in_?” Altair demanded. “Absolutely not.”

“Altair,” Desmond said, “Shut up,” and Altair looked taken aback. “You guys have done a good thing. You made an army out slaves and yeah you’ve taken a few of their plantations but you have what? Twelve thousand people? How many of them actually decided to join this little army? Six thousand? Seven thousand?”

“Eight and some change,” Hawk said.

“Eight and some change…” he laughed dryly, shaking his head a little. “Its not enough. The end game is Atlantis, its always, been Atlantis. And your eight thousand strong army is nothing. There are twelve million proeathans on earth, right now, from all different nations before we stopped them the first time. Between the factions there are two soldiers. Two _million_. I don’t think you realize the scope of what we’re up against. Proeathans outnumber us nearly two hundred and fifty to one at those odds.

“So I brought help,” Desmond said, “Your eight thousand isn’t going to make a dent, even trained by Assassins. These proeathans coming to Demeter want to _help us_ , like the AIs do. For the past five months the proeathans have had time to reclaim Atlantis, fortify it, and prepare. They know we aren’t dead, they damn sure know _I’m_ not dead. So you might not like it, but they’re coming, and I’m going to let them in.”

“You can’t expect us to-

“No, I do,” Desmond cut Altair off like he never had before. Altair looked annoyed. “There are some things you all might need to come to terms with now, before shit gets going. I’m not the same guy I left as. And this base, that army you trained; its mine now.”

“Desmond that’s unreasonable,” Shaun said.

He looked at the red head, “No, it isn’t,” he said. “I fucked this up. I’m unfucking it, and if that means I need to grab it by the balls and squeeze, I will. You might be in charge, but now you’re running on my agenda and time table, because I know what needs doing, and you’ve been sitting here, twiddling your thumbs, waiting me to come back. Well here I am, and you’ve already declared war on the proeathans, I’m going to make sure we win it and not just buzz around them like annoying flies.

“Thirty thousand proeathans will be arriving at Demeter later tonight along with Artemis and a large cargo of tech from Venus. If any of you have a problem with that I will be happy to tell Demeter to see you to the surface.”

“You wouldn’t,” Altair said, eyes slightly narrowed.

Desmond looked at him, dead in the eyes, “Yes I would. You’re listening to me now, and that’s the end of this discussion. Otherwise I _will_ have Demeter take you to the surface, and its the middle of summer up there, hot and dry and miserable. I know, I walked across it. So what’s it going to be Altair?”

They all turned and looked at Altair, they knew if Altair balked, there’d be a fight, but if he didn’t, they’d comply. Desmond wasn’t playing anymore. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t to be coddled. Six months away had done more for him than six months with his ancestors. They’d softened the blow of his choice, kept him close, and safe, protected him. But he’d been gone six months and he’d had to face all his choices, had to do things he didn’t think he’d ever do. He’d grown stronger, more capable.

Proeathan lore said that the Unnamed wasn’t just the end. It was the end, but it wasn’t an event. It was a person who would bring about the end of life as they knew it. What exactly those words meant was up for a lot of debate apparently. But there was no debating that the Unnamed would be a man of stature, both in body and in presence, who would lead those who followed him to the destruction of all things. When Desmond had heard that he’d been terrified of what he could be.

But after what he’d seen, the people he’d seen suffer at the hands of the proeathans, he didn’t feel like that anymore. He’d had to face his choices, and he could either be beat down like them like before when he’d wanted to kill himself nearly every day. Or he could step up and do something about it. He wasn’t going to run anymore. If the proeathans wanted the end of the world; he’d fucking give it to them, and if he had to destroy everything either species had ever created to do so, he would. 

He was tired of being weak, of being stepped on, of his desires not seeming to matter. Which was why he was here now, and why he was giving his ancestors, Altair, this choice. They could listen to him, and continue to do as they did. Or, they could go against him and he’d remove them. He knew his course, and he wouldn’t let anyone get in his way, not the proeathans, not his ancestors, and damn sure not Altair.

“You’ve changed,” Altair said.

“That tends to happen when the world ends,” Desmond said flatly.

“I don’t like it,” Altair said, “But you’re right. We need help. I wish it wasn’t proeathans, but at this point beggars can’t be choosers.”

Desmond relaxed a little. He didn’t want to have to send Altair away, he would have, but he didn’t want to. So he was glad he didn’t have to. “No,” he agreed, “I’ll keep them away from the humans, I don’t want to freak them out unnecessarily by all the proeathans.”

“Good,” Altair said.

“Are there any other super pressing questions? I want to go shower and change clothes. These are ripe as shit.”

“We can talk more later,” Ezio said before anyone else could say no. “You need to tell us more about your journey,” he said.

“I will,” Desmond promised. “I don’t promise it’ll be very exciting. A lot of walking, but I will.”

“Good enough,” Ezio said and Desmond got to his feet, his legs aching, he just wanted to lay down and sleep for a day or two, recover a bit from that ordeal of walking from the Mediterranean carrying all those cores. Maybe he’d get a chance to relax, just a little, before he had to be on his game again. He wasn’t the only one who got up and Shaun left quickly, Ezio did as well, he’d figure it out later.

Before he left though Altair came over and hugged him tightly, “I’m glad you’re back, kid,” he said.

Desmond hugged him back, “Had to eventually,” and Altair clapped him on the back before releasing him. Hawk got to hug him next, it was brief but firm and he said nothing before leaving the room. 

“Oh, Desmond,” Jake said, “Uh… don’t be freaked out if you see Cain around. He’s… around,” he said.

“I know,” Desmond said, “I’m actually really up to date on the goings-on of this place,” he said and Jake gave him a one armed hug. “Now, I really… want to shower.”

“Yeah, you smell like hell,” Jake held his nose and Desmond shoved him a little.

“I’ll see you guys when I’m done, at the very least when the proeathans come,” Desmond said.

“Right, maybe get some rest?” Altair asked.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Demeter,” he called, “Show me where I’m sleeping.”

“Of course, Desmond,” she said appearing next to him and led him out of the room. He’d only gone like ten feet before he heard someone following him, he turned and looked. It was Lucy. She looked nervous, “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, “Desmond-

“I know, you wanna talk. We will, I promise. I just want to wash up first.”

“Okay,” she said, “Have Demeter get me when you’re done I— its important.”

“Of course,” he said and then she hugged him. He hugged he back, and she felt small in his embrace, though not fragile or weak. She felt as strong as steel. He’d missed her _so_ much and his memories were no comparison for her. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he felt warm all over, his heart swelling. He held onto her for a while and she didn’t seem to mind. Then he let her go, but held her at arms length. “I missed you,” he told her.

He didn’t understand why she looked sort of upset, “I’m glad you’re back,” she said. “I’ll talk to you when you’re done cleaning up, okay?”

“Yeah,” and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in a while and he _so_ wasn’t inflicting that on her. “I’ll have Demeter get you, or Venus, she likes you.”

“Okay,” she said and he slid his hands off her and looked at Demeter. She nodded in a directed and walked off. Desmond followed her, feeling lighter than he had in months. He was back and nothing was going to get in his way of what needed doing or what he wanted.


	4. This Life is a Cage

Desmond had taken a long, cool, shower/bath when Demeter had finally shown him to his room. It was a big room, though rather simple. Desmond only cared that the bed was soft and that the shower worked. It had, and he’d scrubbed away weeks of dirt and sweat and grime from his body and washed his hair until it was soft and silky. Then he’d just relaxed in the bath and might have dozed off a bit. He said might have but he had as he was woken by Demeter talking to him, trying to wake him. 

He was just so tired and hadn’t really been able to rest in months. He always had to be awake, had to be alert. To sleep was to invite the proeathans, the bad kind, and he didn’t want that. He was good, but he couldn’t take on a bunch of proeathans alone, not without serious risk to his person. He’d learned how to handle them though, to a degree.

“Desmond, Lucy keeps asking about you,” Demeter was saying, probably not for the first time, but this was the first time he was awake enough to understand it. “Should I tell her to just wait until dinner-

“No, I’m awake,” Desmond said with a groan and sat up in the cold water which was rather pleasant after the hot trek through the desert. “Tell her she can come if she wants,” and he heaved himself out of the tub and stepped out, his legs wobbled a little, he’d fallen asleep there.

“She’s coming-

“You may want to get dressed,” Venus said, sort of.

“Shut up,” he groaned and put a towel around his waist and went to the mirror. His hair was too long, and he had a beard. He looked awful in a beard. “Demeter, I need a trimmer,” and Demeter produced one for his use. He turned it on and shaved off his beard and a good portion of his hair. He didn’t go full buzz cut like he had back in Russia, but it was a near thing. Demeter also gave him a razor and some shave gel to get rid of the short beard he was rocking. The blade gradually revealed the bottom of his head and the remaining glyphs on his jaw and neck. He patted his skin dry and washed it again, just enjoying washing himself with clean soap and water like he hadn’t in six months. Instead he’d been washing in lakes and rivers with nothing but cold water for his effort for the most part.

“When’s she getting here?” he asked.

“Once you dress, I’m leading her around the long way,” Demeter said, “She’s very… anxious to see you.”

Desmond smiled a sort of dopy smile, “I’m looking forward to seeing her too,” none of the AIs commented.

Desmond dressed in the clothes Demeter provided him. All the clothes were dark and while not formfitting were well tailored, the jacket had a deep hood on it too, which he appreciated. She also gave him skin tight, haptic, gloves, so he wouldn’t have to remove them. His skin had become quite pale in the last six months, even as summer came upon them. Desmond kept himself almost completely covered, head to toe, unless he couldn’t help it. The marks on his body made him easy to discern in a crowd or from afar, so he covered them. It sometimes made his life a bit hot, but he could live with being warm to avoid detection, which was the main thing.

“She’s here,” Demeter said and there was a knock on the door. Desmond went to it and pretended her knocking hadn’t seemed hesitant. The door opened and Lucy was standing in the doorway, wearing clothes similar to his, but they were colored, blue and white instead of black and gray. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, smiling. He still couldn’t get over how amazing she looked, how beautiful.

“Hi,” she said and stepped into his room. “What’s with the suit?” she asked.

“This? Demeter just put it out,” he shrugged.

“You look like Pluto,” she said.

“Please, I look way better than Pluto,” he said. That made her laugh a little.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she told him.

“Happy to be back, you wanted to talk about something?” he asked, cutting to the chase. He wanted to get whatever they had to talk about so they could maybe do other things with their mouths than talking.

“Yes,” she took a deep breath and looked down.

“Lucy? What’s the matter?” because that wasn’t what someone did when they had good news. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end and he got nervous.

She seemed to be psyching herself up, clearly it was very bad news. Then she looked up at him. “I don’t love you,” she said like she was ripping off a bandaid but it brought her no satisfaction. Desmond rocked back a bit like he’d just been hit by a wave. “In fact, I barely remember spending time with you before you left.”

“What?” he asked, “How?” how could she just… forget? Desmond felt his heart shrivel up and the hole in his chest start to yawn open wide.

Lucy’s mouth twisted, she didn’t want to do this. She knew how much he cared about her, he’d done everything the past six months to get back to her. The AI wouldn’t tell him where Demeter was, and where Lucy was, until he’d done what he needed to do. “Flying numia is a strain for humans,” she said, “and its worse for synthetics. I hurt myself flying the numia from Pluto to Demeter.”

“They let you get hurt?” and for a second rage washed over him like a familiar balm, quenching his heart ache.

“Not on purpose,” she said, “and they fixed me up, good as new.” Desmond was about to call the lie when she said, “And while they were fixing the internal bleeding in my brain I asked Hera if she would…” her words failed her here. She swallowed before saying, “If she would undo what the proeathans had done.”

“Done? What did they do?” he asked.

“I don’t know what’s real Desmond,” she said, upset by this. “I have all these fake memories, ones I don’t even know are real or not. I think they’re Lucy’s memories, but I don’t know if they’re real. I don’t know if she really had a brother or grew up in Iowa or if her first day in Chicago scared her so badly she could barely leave her apartment for a week, or that she did love daisies over roses, or she ever… ever really felt anything for you,” and Desmond just stared at her. “The proeathans gave me all these memories, all these emotions, and feelings. But I don’t know if they’re real. I still don’t. So I asked Hera to at least try and fix that.”

“And what did she do?” he asked, his voice soft, worn even though he wasn’t tired, but he felt like someone had their hand inside his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart.

“I asked her if she could… make me not love you.”

“Why?” he asked and wondered if he sounded as heart broken as he felt. By Lucy’s face he knew, he did.

Lucy took a moment, breathed, “I have three and a half years to live,” she said.

“What!” he cried and practically jumped over to her, she didn’t stop him when he grabbed her arms. “What do you mean you have three and a half years to live?” anger and heartbreak gone, he was worried now.

“Synths aren’t meant to stay around,” she said. “Hera said I had four years left six months ago.”

He hugged her, “I’m sorry,” he said, holding her and she hugged him back. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I don’t have as much time as I hoped I did,” she kept talking, “but with that time. I need… to know its all me. I’m not her. Whatever I think or feel, or do, it has to be me,” she pushed him away. “Which is why I can’t just let the proeathans control what I think, what I feel.”

He looked down at her and more than anything he wanted to make her feel better. But he didn’t know how. He knew when faced with your own mortality, there wasn’t much others could do. You had to face it, and you either accepted, or it destroyed you. Desmond had been letting his own mortality destroy him, running as hard and as fast as he could to the other side, to escape a mess he’d made. He’d learned to accept it though. He had this life, and he was going to do something important with it, something good. He wasn’t going to let his legacy be the end of the human race.

“So now what?” he asked her, and held her arms once more.

“I… I don’t know,” she said and she bit her lips to stop them from trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you but I knew that if I couldn’t tell where the proeathan programing ended and I began that’s all I’d be doing. I didn’t want to have that lie between me and the people I care about.”

Desmond made sure his voice didn’t shake when he asked, “Have you found someone else?” He was honestly surprised with how steady his voice was, and how absolutely dead it sounded.

“No,” she shook her head, “I don’t… talk to adults much anymore. They stare at me, and whisper. I can’t handle that.”

“Why? Why do they do that?”

She looked down and shook her head a bit, “Its a story for later,” she said. “I know you love me, and I don’t back,” and hearing her say it like that made his heart ache. “But, I’m willing to give you a chance, like several of the others here have wanted.”

“Others?” Desmond asked.

“I’m a pretty important girl, Desmond,” and she smiled slightly, though it only touched her eyes, “but I’m not a prize to win, or to be given, for anyone. Even you,” and wasn’t that a low blow. “The proeathans made me for you-

“But I don’t get a free pass?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

He let her and took a step back, “Okay,” he said slowly, “I think you should leave,” he said.

“Desmond-

“ _Lucy_ ,” he didn’t mean for it to sound sharp, but it did, “Sorry. Just… please leave.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” she told him.

His mouth twisted and he held back an angry and hurt retort. She’d never hurt him, and now she was. “Please,” he said. She nodded slowly before leaving.

Desmond sat on his bed and while they said nothing he had a feeling all the AI had been monitoring the conversation. He sat there for a few minutes in silence. “It could be worse,” Venus suddenly said.

Desmond looked up at the ceiling, “Where’s Hera?” he asked.

“Desmond I don’t-

“ _Where’s_ Hera? Show yourself,” he ordered and looked down as the masked woman appeared before him. She removed her plain mask, revealing her face, so like Juno.

“If you wish to be angry with us you may,” she said, “But we have no regrets.”

Desmond stood up slowly, he dwarfed her holographic form, which seemed to shrink in his presence. “What did you do to her?”

“What she asked of us,” Hera said, looking up at him. “You may be the _stadalla_ but she is more important to us than you, and her happiness is our greater concern.”

“I just can’t have anything easy can I?” he asked, to no one in particular.

“Life is not supposed to be easy, Desmond,” Hera said. “Your life is a series of trials. You have yours, Lucy has hers. You are one of her trials and she decided to face it by giving herself a chance.”

“A chance? A chance for what? To forget how she feels about me-

“How she _thought_ she felt about you,” Hera said. “Before you left what she felt for you was… mostly fake,” and he stared at her. “The proeathans _made_ her love you, but the real Lucy didn’t have those strong of feelings for you. Its why she doesn’t love you now, because she never did.”

“Shut up,” he said softly.

“She wanted live the remaining of her years on her own time, not on the proeathans.”

“Which is also your fault.”

“We gave her as much time as we could,” Hera said, “Synthetics are temporary tools, or expensive toys, they are not meant to last.”

Desmond just stared at her, his jaw clenched. He was angry. Angry and hurt and it wasn’t _fair_. He was used to the world not being fair, his entire life was unfair. But this was just _mean_. He had sacrificed everything for this, criss crossed the world almost half a dozen times, run for his life, not slept in days, done the impossible and then some. For what? To come home and be told that one of the only things important to him that he wasn’t important to them? The world was cruel, but he figured that _eventually_ he’d get a break. Just once, things would go his way.

“Desmond,” Venus suddenly said.

“What?” he snarled, furious and hurt.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing… oh, oh, fuck.” Nothing was happening but he knew it was affecting the AI. The marks on his skin were glowing, brightly, to the point he could see them even through his clothes a bit and out of the corner of his eyes as the ones on his cheeks and jaw glowed. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t let it get out of control. He had to keep it in check. He took a few deep breaths and willed his anger, his pain, his heartache, away. When he got emotional it made the glyphs glow and had… interesting effects on nearby proeathan and even human tech. If he didn’t watch it it got the better of him. The proeathans had shown him how to instill control, to force his mind and his body to obey him, so it obeyed him. He was no longer a slave to his body and mind, he was in control.

The glowing dimmed.

“It could be worse for you Desmond,” Venus said, before he could ask how she continued, “she isn’t with anyone else. She’ll give you a chance.”

“And she was truthful when she said many would like such a chance,” Pluto said. “Most men, and quite a large number of women, would like to have the company of the Angel of the Lake.”

“The… what?” Desmond squinted.

Pluto chuckled, “We kept you abreast of most of the situation. But you missed a lot,” he said, “You should ask about it.”

Desmond sighed and sat down again, deflated. “I guess I just… am going to have to do what I always have to do then. Work for something that shouldn’t be this fucking hard to get,” he rubbed his face.

“She is not a prize,” Hera said.

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes you want good things in your life. I know that’s hard to understand for you Hera,” and she scowled at him. “And sometimes they shouldn’t have to nearly kill yourself to get them.”

None of them said anything, but Desmond knew they were there, watching him. “So what now?” Artemis asked.

“I’m going to win her back, obviously,” he said, a bit insulted.

“Good,” Artemis said cheerfully.

“Though that will have to wait,” Demeter said. “You slept in that bath for a while. The Ilythians are here.”

Desmond grunted and got to his feet, “Right,” he said, “time to get to work,” and left the room, pulling up his hood as he did.


	5. The Mockingbird Speaks

When Desmond arrived at the command center, different than the one he’d been led to the first time, it was in a coordinated frenzy. There were all manner of people at stations, working, looking at screens, talking. The large holo table in the center of the room showed a fleet of numia, all headed towards Demeter. No one noticed him when he entered which gave him time to slip away from the door and find someone who was actually in charge.

He found Altair rather quickly, standing close to the center, talking with a man Desmond didn’t know. “There’s no need for this level of excitement,” Desmond said to Altair.

“There are over a hundred numia headed for Demeter right now, we couldn’t contain it even if we tried,” Altair said and turned back to the man. They were speaking in rapid French, then the man nodded, and left quickly. Altair beckoned and Desmond followed him away from the center and to the side where there was a smaller station of machines. Hawk was sitting at one, his eyes dancing across the screen. He looked up when Altair and Desmond neared.

“Mind telling us what’s going on?” he asked Desmond.

“I told you,” Desmond said, “I have an army coming to bolster our numbers.”

Hawk sighed, “Everyone’s freaking out and we don’t know how to calm them down,” he admitted. “There are some fear mongers in our ranks and it took them no time for the entire base to hear.”

“So… no hiding it,” Desmond said.

“Despite our best efforts,” Hawk sighed.

“Then lets not hide it,” Desmond pushed his hood back a bit, “Mercury, connect us to the proeathan flight communications,” he said.

“Desmond, what are you doing?” Hawk hissed.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I know what I’m doing,” he said.

“I’ve established contact,” Mercury said, “Just talk, they’ll hear.”

“Fantastic,” and then he dug around in his brain for the Ilythian. Since he’d rapidly learned two tongues through the Bleeding Effect learning new languages was incredibly easy for him, much like learning to fight was. “Who’s leading the fleet?”

“Ando Od,” Mercury said.

“Right,” Desmond cleared his throat, _“Demeter to Ando, do you copy?”_

“ _This is Ando_ ,” came the proeathan voice and it was played over the entire room. Everyone abruptly fell silent, all chatter and typing stopping, to listen.

 _“We’re anticipating you’re arrival, Ando_ ,” Desmond said, _“What is your ETA?_ ”

“ _Five minutes_ ,” or roughly so, proeathans didn’t measure time the same way humans did. A proeathan minute was about half again as long as a human minute.

 _“The hanger doors will be open,_ ” Desmond said.

 _“Copy, Demeter._ We look forward to it,” they said the last bit in English, their accent about as bad as Desmond’s was in proeathan. It made a bunch of the humans nervous.

 _“Don’t make the humans unnecessarily anxious. They’re already scared of the fleet_.”

 _“Right_ , apologies,” and Desmond smiled a bit, despite himself.

“ _Copy. Out,_ ” Desmond said.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk demanded as talking started again, this time with more than a thread of fear in it.

“Ilythian. Very… bad Ilythian,” Desmond said.

“Ilythi-what?”

“Ilythian, its the language the Ilytha proeathans speak.” Hawk and Altair just looked at him like he had two heads. “What? You can’t expect all proeathans to speak the same tongue can you? Not even humans speak the same language,” and he saw them both give him looks like yeah, he was right.

“Who are the Ilythians?” Hawk asked.

“A proeathan nation that are considered turn coats by the majority of the proeathans. There are just about thirty thousand of them left and they don’t like the way the world is. They didn’t like it while we were running it, but they don’t like the new world order either.”

“So an enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Altair asked.

“More of less,” Desmond shrugged.

“Are they afraid of you?” Hawk asked.

“Petrified,” he grinned, “I can’t even be near one when they’re alone. They only come near me in groups.”

“And they agreed to come here, seriously? Into a box in the ground with you?”

“Enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Desmond said, “The other proeathans are trying to kill or lock up the Ilythians,” he said, “and probably attempt to reeducate them. Its me, or that. They’re risking me.”

“Nothing the proeathan do make sense,”Hawk said, “They kill us to make themselves great, and they also… hunt their own species too do what?”

“Weed out dissent,” Altair said, “Assassins do it all the time. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” Desmond nodded. “And you’re a mighty big nail, Desmond,” he said.

He grinned, despite himself, “A bit, yeah,” he agreed. “Now, we should go to the hanger, they aren’t all going to be able to fit at once. These people know you, you need to calm them down, and keep them away. Can you do that?”

“Probably,” Altair’s mouth went thin a moment, “Scramble the minutemen,” he told Hawk, “We’ll need them to keep the other back so they don’t crowd the hanger, or the numia.”

“On it,” Hawk said.

“C’mon, we should meet them there,” Altair said and Desmond followed him out of the command center and down the hall. “So, you ever going to tell us what happened while you were gone?”

“One day,” Desmond said, “We don’t really have time for the full story right now though. I doubt we will till this is over.”

“Right,” and then Altair was quiet a moment. Desmond sensed he had something to say. “Did Lucy talk to you yet?”

“Yes,” Desmond said lowly. Altair said nothing, “Nothing to say? No gloating?” he questioned.

“It isn’t easy being in love,” Altair said, “And I have no room to gloat.”

“That’s a first.”

Altair gave him a look, “She’s proved herself invaluable to us.”

“You mean the whole Angel of the Lake thing? Which, by the by, what the fuck is that about?”

“I’ll tell you later, promise, its a tale, much like your journey.”

“Probably more exciting. Mine was… boring, until I met the Ilythians.”

“Well now we’re all going to meet the Ilythians,” Altair said as they entered the main hanger with its great drop shaft that led up to Lake Chad. Above they could see a small winking blue eye that was the sky above from the hole in the lake created by Demeter opening her hanger doors. There was no one in the hanger just yet, at least no mortals. Standing nearly dead center of the hanger, looking up at the little speck of sky far above, was Cain. “Also, he’s here.”

“I know,” Desmond said. The AI had told him, but as always they were secretive about what they’d given him for his services, his loyalty.

Cain looked at them as they approached, “Took you long enough,” he said with a sneer.

“Some of us have more important things to do than gawk at nothing,” Altair snapped.

Cain chuckled, “Its only nothing if you’re looking in the wrong places,” he said as minute men started to show up, armed as before as Desmond had seen them, Ezio with them. Clearly Ezio was their commander.

“Can’t take my eyes off either one of you for five damn minutes without you biting at each other’s ankles,” Ezio said as the minute men formed up at the entrances of the hanger. He came over to them. “Play nice, or at least pretend to, for at least a few minutes?”

Cain smiled at Altair, “Shut up,” Altair growled.

“I said nothing,” Cain said, still smiling.

“Yeah but you were thinking it,” Altair snapped.

“God,” Desmond sighed, “both of you just shut up. Go sit in the corner or something. I so don’t have time for your petty argument about the past anymore.”

“Desmond he-

“You should listen to him,” Cain said, “He’s smarter than you. Not that that’s exactly hard.”

“ _Cain_ ,” Desmond turned hard eyes on him, “be quiet.”

Cain pinched his thumb and forefinger together and drew it across his mouth like he was zipping it shut, but his smug smile never faltered. He was enjoying this. Well he could enjoy it and keep his damn mouth shut. Bad enough he had Altair around with his big head, he didn’t need Cain’s either. “Mercury, connect me back with the fleet,” he said.

There was a brief pause, “ _Base Demeter, this is Ando Od of the Starboard, do you copy?”_

 _“Ando, this is Demeter, we copy_ ,” Desmond said.

“ _We see the lake. And the hole.”_

_“Good, I trust you to know how to handle your own fleet in making sure they all land safely.”_

_“Are there fivers around?”_

Desmond paused, fivers was what proeathans called humans, the same way some Americans had still called black people niggers. It was a jab at their senses, weaker than proeathans, and they had only five. Not like proeathans with their sixth sense who could train it to do anything from divination to being able to sense others around them, to even being able to predict the flip of a coin. And of course they had a robust, fully functioning, version of the Eagle Vision which when Desmond had heard of it made him feel so totally watered down. The proeathans trained their sixth sense to a fine point, so while they couldn’t do everything, they could do one thing very well.

 _“I’m a fiver,”_ Desmond snapped.

There was a long pause on the other end, _“Only just_ stadalla _,”_ they said, _“Are there others there?”_

 _“Yes. We’ll talk again when you land. And try and not be a disrespectful group of_ keens _in my presence again_.”

There was another long pause, though this time it held a wary air, “ _Of course_ stadalla. _Over. Out_.”

“Fucking proeathans,” Desmond growled.

“What’d he say?” Altair said.

“They’re going to start descending,” and Desmond looked up, the blue eye winked and closed as a shadow passed over it. Though not really a shadow, rather a numia. The eye didn’t open, meaning the numia was descending.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Altair asked.

“It’s the best one we got,” Desmond said. “Once your army has learned a few more tricks from the Ilythians and how to fight against some of the things the proeathan army has to throw at us, we’ll be moving on Atlantis.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?” Ezio asked.

“Few weeks if we’re lucky,” Desmond said. “You guys haven’t seen the things the proeathans have. They have mechs.”

“ _Mechs_?” Ezio asked, eyes going wide.

“Yeah. Mechs, and these insane, mounted, nearly kamikaze two wheeled cavalry things. I’ve seen video of that and more in action-“ he looked up when drops of water landed on them in a brief ran. “For the love of God I literally just changed,” he sighed.

“What was that? Demeter?” Altair called.

“I had to widen my main doors,” Demeter said, “I did not anticipate Artemis being so large.”

“Did you just call me fat?” Artemis cried.

“Of course not,” Demeter said.

“Good. Because I’m littler than you.”

“Only on the outside,” Demeter said.

“Ladies, please,” Desmond said, “Bad enough we’re going to have proeathans in here. I don’t need fighting AIs along with fighting armies,” he rubbed his forehead and felt some of a grooves burned into his skin.

“Yes Desmond,” they said at the same time and fell silent.

“They listen to you,” Altair said.

“Of course they do, I’m the _stadalla_ ,” he said, like it was obvious.

“What’s that?” Ezio asked.

“Their word for the Unnamed,” Desmond shrugged, “its like one of the few words that all proeathan languages have in common, _stadalla_ , along with… oh what _was_ it?” it was on the tip of his tongue.

“ _Hotai,”_ Cain said.

“Yes that was it and _how_ do _you_ know that?” Desmond said, eyeing him.

Cain grinned, “I know a lot of things,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to hear them.”

“That can wait, we need to move,” Desmond said and glanced up. The great shadow was closer now and it wasn’t a shadow at all. It was a _massive_ aircraft. Easily larger than any Boeing previously on the market, and like all the other numia Desmond had ever seen was elegant in its appearance, its shape perfectly curved and seamless. This numia was a pearly white color that seemed to shimmer in the light of the hanger.

They quickly got out of the way of the huge numia as it landed to rest gently on the ground. There was a low thud and then a panel in the side opened and a staircase was dropped down. A moment passed and then a tall man exited the numia and climbed down the staircase. Two more people followed and once they were on the ground the staircase rolled back up and the numia closed once more. There was a higher pitched droning noise and the numia lifted a dozen or so feet into the air and then near silently glided out of the main landing pad and deeper into Demeter’s vast hanger.

The three people, proeathans really, came towards them. Desmond recognized all of them. They were all tall, taller even than him, with fine, raven wing, black hair, dirt colored skin, uncomfortably high cheekbones and large, yellow eyes. The man in front had a long face and a wide, downturned mouth, his nose small and elegant. The others was a man, lean through and through with skin that seemed too tight to his bones and shadowed eyes with a slightly protruding brow line, he’d plucked his eyebrows to non existence leaving only smooth, medium toned, skin behind. The third was a woman who was slender and without a single womanly grace to her name. She was built like and walked rather like a board with legs and had a sharp, cat-like, face, with an slightly cleft upper lip. For what reason Desmond didn’t know, but it was better if you didn’t ask with these people.

 _“Stadalla_ ,” the first man, with the frowning mouth, said. He hesitated and then reached out to shake Desmond’s hand. Proeathans, Ilythians or otherwise, didn’t shake hands like humans did. It was a strictly human custom as it was rude to insist on touching upon meeting someone, since you couldn’t know how they’d trained their sixth sense and could very well be a touch sensitive empath. Different rules applied.

Desmond grabbed his hand firmly, “Od, _good to see you again_ ,” he said, “ _How was your flight_?”

“ _Long_ ,” he looked up as another numia arrived at the bottom of the great hanger, it didn’t touched down though, merely hovered in the air and turned on its horizontal axis and followed the huge numia into the hanger proper. “ _This will be going a while_ ,” he said.

Desmond nodded, “Everyone,” he said, “This is _Ando_ Od Sighted, commander of the Ilythian fleet. These are his Firsts, _Sengar_ s Inti Deft and Zorya Cun,” he motioned first to the man, and then the woman, who both inclined their heads, knowing enough English to know they were being introduced. “ _And this is some of the humans you’ll be fighting with. This is_ Ezio Auditore, Altair ibn La’Ahad, _and…_ Cain _.”_

The three proeathans looked over at Cain, “ _I thought you said there were only fiv- humans here,”_ Od said, not taking his eyes off Cain.

“ _There are. You’re the only_ keens _we’ve had down here,_ ” and Desmond was going to keep calling them keens every time they said or almost said fiver. Keen basically meant good for nothing, or talentless, someone who hadn’t trained their sixth sense good enough and were thus useless in proeathan society. It was as bad a slur as fiver, but directed at proeathans instead of humans.

Od scowled at him, but got the hint. “Hmm,” was all he said, “ _Have they never seen a proeathan up close_?” he was looking behind Desmond’s shoulder. Desmond turned and looked, and saw all the minutemen turned around, staring, eyes so wide he could see them even at a distance.

“Ezio, aren’t your men more disciplined than that?” Desmond asked him.

“Oi!” Ezio suddenly cried, “You can gawk later! Right way round!” the minutemen all turned hastily. “Better?”

“Marginally,” Desmond said. Numia were still descending and would for a while. The Ilythian fleet was huge, and they’d have to maneuver Artemis into place at Demeter’s direction. “Do any of you have anything to add?” he asked Ezio and Altair.

“How well do they understand English?”

“Well enough,” Od said, his accent utterly horrific. Desmond knew his Ilythian wasn’t much better.

“Good, I’ll use small words. None of us trust you. We’ve prepared a place for you, and you’re to stay there unless we say. The humans and proeathans will be separate to avoid panic. Understood?”

Od gazed down at Altair, and for a moment his eyes turned blue, but it was only for a second before dying down. “Yes,” he said. Od looked over at Desmond, “ _You should teach your men better manners.”_

_“Would if I could.”_

_“Yes_ ,” Od glanced at Altair, _“It is so hard to take the aggression out of your kind. But we will abide, we want refuge here just as much as you. When you call us_ stadalla _we will come.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Until that time however, I should go to oversee the movement of my fleet.”_

_“Of course. We’ll talk again soon,”_ Desmond said.

 _“Of that, I have no doubt_ ,” Od said and he motioned to his Firsts and turned to head towards the part of the hanger where all the numia were landing and expelling their cargo of proeathans.

“You trust them?” Altair asked.

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Why?”

“Because,” Desmond said, “they saved me when I was going to die.”

 


	6. Condor

“Say that again,” Altair said, of course he did.

“They saved me,” Desmond said. “On my way through India I ran out of food and was starving. I went to sleep one night and woke up to a bunch of Indians who thought I was a proeathan. I don’t know what they were saying, but I was going to get lynched. I think I was in their safe zone or something and they were scared and I was a big, tall, being wearing proeathan clothes with proeathan weapons. Didn’t matter I don’t really look proeathan. Normally I would have just fought them off but I was too tired, too weak.

“They were about to put the rope around my neck and hang me when Od and the other Ilythians came. They didn’t hurt any of the people, but their presence scared them all away. They could handle one proeathan, but an entire group? They took me onto the Starboard and fed me.”

“You just ate food proeathans gave you? It could have been poisoned,” Ezio said critically.

“I hadn’t eaten in like a week and a half. I honestly didn’t give a shit,” Desmond said. “Artemis and Mercury were freaking out the entire time up till… this point actually. They fed me and then let me go with a few MREs.”

“Bull shit,” Ezio said.

“No, really,” Desmond said. “The Ilythians are, for the most part, total pacifists.”

“But they’re joining a war cause,” Altair said blandly.

“Pacifism is different for proeathans,” Desmond explained. “For us it is no war, no violence, and do not hurt anyone or anything. For proeathans it is more like… well, exactly how the Assassins do. Peace through death,” Altair’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being compared to the proeathans. Well tough shit, they were a lot alike. “And like I said, they don’t like how the proeathans are running the show now, but they weren’t so fond of how the humans were either.”

“So then what do they like?” Altair asked, irritably. Still not happy to have just been compared to proeathans. Again; tough shit.

“They want to live, and live peacefully. They aren’t as horribly spiciest as most proeathans are, they know humans aren’t that bad. They just are young and don’t know what they’re doing. Apparently the proeathans almost destroyed themselves through climate change and wars too. But they figured it out. Humans progressed too quickly technology wise without thought of how it should actually be used and we were going to probably destroy ourselves, or wipe out half the planet.”

“Instead the proeathans did that for us,” Ezio said bitterly and then flinched, clearly he hadn’t meant to say that. “Uh…”

“What?” Desmond asked.

“Were we telling him?” Ezio asked Altair guiltily.

“Tell me what?” Desmond asked.

Altair sighed a little, and rubbed his chin, “The actual, estimated, death toll.”

“I know,” Desmond said and swallowed. “There’s like seven hundred thousand of us left; on a high estimate.”

“You know?” Altair asked.

“I told you; I know a lot of what’s been going on. The Ilythians, after I left them, followed me, probably to make sure I wouldn’t accidentally die like I almost did before. After a few days I just stopped and tried to communicate with them. They could help me. After the initial language barrier was mostly taken care of I learned a lot about what’s going on with the other proeathans and the situation with our species. I know you know about the ‘seed banks’, as the proeathans call them.”

“The what?” Ezio asked.

“The children. Which, by the way, what did you do with them?”

“They’re here,” Altair said.

“All of them?”

“All of them. Lucy wouldn’t let us leave a single one behind.”

Desmond rocked back onto his heels, honestly floored. The proeathans apparently didn’t know what had happened to the children. They shouldn’t have lived outside their pods. “They’re alive?”

“Yes? Why wouldn’t they be?” Altair asked. Desmond blinked. “Is that bad? Is there something we should know about them?”

“No,” Desmond said, “No its fantastic. I know the main seed bank in Siberia now has more security though, so what’d happened to the plantations can’t happen there.”

“…Main one?” Altair asked.

Desmond rubbed his face. There was just so much to tell and he was still so tired. “We’ll talk about it later-

“Desmond-

“We’ll talk about it _later_ ,” Desmond told him, his tone hard, almost mean, but in control. _He_ was in control here. Not the proeathans, not Altair, not anyone else. He’d played the good soldier like Pluto had accused him of six years ago, always doing as ordered, even when he didn’t know he was doing it. But now he was directing his destiny. He knew where he had to go, what he had to do, but he’d do it on his time table, his schedule, and on his say. He was tired of being treated like he wasn’t even there. No more running around on other people’s prerogative to do this, or do that, or Desmond you better figure this out or the entire world is going to get bent over and fucked. No more. He mattered. What he wanted _mattered_. He wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do anymore.

Altair frowned, but said nothing. “Back to what I was saying about the Ilythians,” Desmond continued. “I talked to them, learned a lot of stuff, including how much they… kinda hate the other proeathans and think they’re doing a super _A plus_ _job_ at their second time on Earth,” he said sarcastically. “They wouldn’t let me fly in their numia though. I make them too nervous. So. I had to keep walking. But they landed every night and I figured stuff out, learned stuff I needed to learn you weren’t telling me,” he said.

“Desmond you know we were just-

“I know,” Desmond cut Ezio off. “You were protecting me. But… I can’t have you doing that any more. I spent a few months being a self pitying bastard before I left because you were protecting me from the truth. So instead of getting to hear the truth as numbers or figures I could digest, I had to see it first. And now… I know,” he took a deep breath. “I know what I did.”

“You were just doing what you thought was right,” Ezio said.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Desmond said. He didn’t let himself sink into it though. He didn’t let it consume him like he had so many times before. He was able to get up, move forward. He wouldn’t get mired in his self pity, his self loathing. He had _way_ too much to do for that right now, and it didn’t help anyone, including him. “Doesn’t matter what I intended. This is what I have to deal with.”

“So what’s going to happen now?” Altair asked.

“I’m going to go to bed,” Desmond said. “And tomorrow I’m going to talk to Od about teaching your army proeathan tactics. I know you have Pluto but he’s… out of date.”

“I heard that,” Pluto chimed in from the nothing.

“You are,” Desmond said. “The proeathans have humans working for them. Humans who know how to fuck up other humans. They’ve changed proeathan warfare. So, we need to change too. It shouldn’t be too difficult, if you guys,” he meant his ancestors and the Assassins, “have been training them I’m sure it’ll be an easy transition.”

“You expect these people to follow proeathan orders? Desmond they’re terrified and _hate_ proeathans,” Altair said.

“I expect them to do what needs to be done so our species isn’t obliterated,” Desmond said. “I’m not about to tell your men to do anything. They’re your men, they know you, trust you, respect you. I’m not stupid enough to think I can just show up and expect them to listen to me. But you will.”

Altair rubbed his eyes. “Okay, so what exactly are you expecting.”

“Who are your trainers?” Desmond asked.

“The Assassins,” Altair said, “we have some actual military minds from amid the former slaves, and a number of martial arts masters, some marksmen et cetera. We’ve given them officer ranks. They lead most of our units.”

“Then those are the people who will be training with the Ilythians. Just them. Tell them nothing is going to go sideways. If it helps, tell them they’re scared of _me_ , and I’ll be there, for every session. And,” he sort of laughed here, “You’ll see for yourself how much actual proeathan are scared of me. It took me _weeks_ to convince them to train me.”

Altair opened his mouth, “We’ll talk about it later. I promise,” he said. “Just not… right now. I just walked across the sahara carrying like fifty pounds. I want to eat, sleep, and not do anything for like thirteen hours. Think you can manage to keep everyone alive and not at each other’s throats for thirteen hours?”

“Yeah, I think we can manage that,” Altair said.

“Good,” Desmond said. He looked up at the numia, still descending. “Do you want me to stay and monitor this?” he asked.

“No,” Ezio said before Altair could say anything. He grabbed Desmond by the shoulder. “You’re right kid, you deserve a few hours of rest to not have to deal with _all_ this. You let me, and Altair, and Hawk, worry about these children for a bit. You get some grub and get some sleep.”

“Fantastic,” Desmond said.

“Also, don’t go near Clay,” Ezio added.

“Why?” Desmond frowned.

“He… kinda hates you?” Ezio said, half apologetic.

“What? Why?” Why the hell would Clay hate him? He’d only met Clay once, and hadn’t left his island in bad spirits.

“Well you kinda did exactly what he didn’t want to happen and rose Atlantis. Which is basically the worst thing you could have done.”

“Yeah, probably,” Desmond agreed. “But it needed to be done. The other choice was to travel under the surface of the earth, somehow, and tunnel into the pocket the city was in. Raising it was the more logical choice.”

“Also apparently you’re like the dang antichrist or some shit.”

Desmond’s brows went up, “Won’t find any argument here. Now, food, and bed for me. Keep your people away from the hanger. Demeter will find a place for the Ilythians. _Away_ from the humans, promise. Don’t set anything on fire and I’ll see you in a few hours. Deal?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ezio agreed. Desmond nodded, made sure his hood covered most of his face, and then walked out of the hanger, past the minutemen who looked like they were using every ounce of will they had to not look at the landing numia. They’d get all the eyefuls of the Ilythians than wanted once the two sides were more amicable to each other. When that would be Desmond had no freaking clue, but that wasn’t his problem. Filling his stomach was.

 


	7. Strength of the Raptor

As Desmond had thought when Altair had told his men to do something, they did something. Apparently there had been some complaining because Altair wanted them to train with proeathan? But apparently training had won out and now here they were.

There were about a hundred officers in their little army, including his ancestors, Jake and Lucy on one side of the big room Demeter had given them. He also recognized Shaun in their ranks and, of all people, his father, though he knew Andrew couldn’t be able to do most of the training. He was probably here for the theory.  Standing next to Shaun was Rebecca, but she didn’t seem to be here to fight, more like offer moral support? For Shaun maybe? Who knew, maybe she was here to kick ass.

On the other side of the room was nearly twice as many Ilythians, with Od at the head along with his seconds. He recognized a few, but many of the Ilythians he knew weren’t here. These were their battle masters, their trainers, their most seasoned veterans, to train the little human army. Desmond had mostly known the teachers, ones who’d told him what he’d needed to know, and could speak in some human language he could understand.

Desmond wasn’t standing with either group, but not in the middle either. He was off to the side, still dressed in dark grays, his body almost totally covered except for his face. He’d gotten enough eyefuls from some of the other humans the last two days to make him just want to put a bag over his head. He didn’t though. It would just draw yet more attention to him, attention he didn’t want.

Once the people had finished gathering in the training room Altair went over to the Ilythians. Desmond peeled himself off the wall and followed after him.

Od looked down at the both of them as they approached, “How good’s your English?” Altair asked him, not batting an eye at the proeathan who could have been their slaver.

“Fair,” Od said in his horrible accent and glanced at Desmond with a touch of nervousness when he stood next to Altair. He might have known these proeathans for about three months, but he still made them nervous. They were truly afraid of him, though Desmond didn’t quite get why. He’d told them over and over again he wasn’t going to hurt them if they didn’t hurt him. It had everything to do with what he was in their mythos though. The end times were upon them in his shape and they were terrified.

“Okay. So how are we going to do this?” Altair asked him.

“My masters wish to evaluate your skills,” Od said.

“Meaning?”

“We will fight you. We don’t expect anyone except for Desmond to put up much of a fight though.”

Altair’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Why’s that then?” he growled.

“These proeathans trained their sixth sense for anticipation,” Desmond said since Od just looked frustrated with Altair. “Quite literally they can see the blow almost before its coming.”

“I’ve never had a problem fighting other proeathans,” Altair said.

“Normal soldiers do not have these skills,” Od said, trying to be patient but clearly thought Altair was an idiot for not understanding instantly like Desmond. “We wish to see your hand to hand as well as shooting abilities since the Adjetevs use both in their military.”

“Adjetevs?” Altair was totally lost now and again Od looked frustrated.

“The main proeathan force,” Desmond said quickly. “They sort of run everything. The Ilythians are just one of the smaller subgroups of proeathans who got to go into stasis. But the Adjatevs were the ones who built all the bases, most of the proeathans out there are Adjetevs. Like, if the Americans built a bunker to survive nuclear war and then allowed parts of other countries to stay with them for a while,” he said, putting it into easier terms.

“How many ‘other countries’ are there?” Altair asked Desmond.

“Seven,” he said, “and then the Adjatevs makes eight. Half of sixteen; holy number.” Altair growled wordlessly, he hated the fucking proeathans. Desmond nearly laughed. “Most just do what the Adjetevs say because they saved them during the last war.”

“And now they don’t?” he shot an angry look at Od.

“The Ilythians do not keep slaves,” Od said very calmly. Desmond knew Od was rarely rustled. He’d get sort of frustrated with a ‘dumb fiver’ but he’d never let it affect him. “Then, or now. It goes against our belief that all creatures should be allowed to chose for themselves,” and Altair’s face grew dark. He didn’t like that the Ilythians had the same philosophy of him, as the Assassins. “Obedience should be given, not taken. The Adjetevs do not ask for obedience, they demand it, and we were quite tired of that,” he said.

Altair took a deep breath and then said, “Very well. How do you want my men to prepare for this evaluation?”

“Make sure they are ready to fight, whatever that means for you, and split them into sixteen groups. We shall do the same. My men are very eager to see what your side can provide us, we have never seen humans fight before.”

“Fine,” Altair said shortly and turned on his heel and stalked off. Desmond followed.

“You don’t have to be so mad,” Desmond said. “I thought you’d like the Ilythians. They basically follow your exact code of honor.”

Altair glared at him, “A proeathan has my exact code of honor. Yes, I love it,” he said sarcastically.

“Grow up,” was all Desmond said, with a roll of his eyes.

They arrived back at the group of humans and Altair did as Od had said, having his people split into sixteen groups by counting off, so no one would just be with friends. Desmond followed him as he went through the group, assigning them numbers.

Then they came to one.

“What are you doing here?” Altair growled at Cain.

Cain’s smile was mischievous. “I’m here to take part, what else would I be here for?”

“I’m not putting you with my men,” Altair said.

“That’s okay. I’ll just be in group seventeen with the kid,” and he winked at Desmond. Desmond couldn’t help but find it amusing. Altair scowled at the both of them.

“You will not-

“Its fine,” Desmond said. “I’m not going to be in a group anyway. The fighting masters know what I can do. So you get to be in seventeen all by yourself, Cain,” Desmond said.

Cain laughed at that, “Oh I like him Abel. He reminds me of you before you became so petty.”

Altair looked like he was about to throw a punch but Desmond pushed Altair away, to the next person who was given a number. Once the sixteen groups were made, each with six members, except for two which had seven, Altair told them to get ready to fight. So the groups split apart and went to limber up, stretch, and get in the zone. Across the room the Ilythians were doing much the same.

Desmond joined a group at random, giving them a seventh member. They looked at him with frowns. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, “I’m Des, don’t mind me,” and he sat, and bent over his legs to grab the bottoms of his feet with the rest of them. Once they saw he wasn’t going to do anything they continued their stretches in order.

Then when they were done Desmond left the group. Od was coming over to them. Altair got there a few seconds before he did. “-my men will join each of your groups. They will test their skills. I’ve made sure each group has someone who can speak English in it, is that fair?”

“Yeah, some of our members don’t speak English though,” Altair said.

Od frowned, “Why not?”

“They just don’t,” he said. “Most can understand part of it at least. One of our men only speaks Swahili.”

“How do you communicate?”

“I speak Swahili,” Altair said.

“Then you’d best be in his group. None of us know such a language. We know English, because the Stadalla does.”

“And some really old Italian and Arabic but that isn’t going to help anyone but you, Jake, and Ezio,” Desmond added.

Altair shot him a look, but though he looked about to explode with questions, he said nothing. “Fine,” he said.

“I will send my men over. Make sure none of them,” he sighed here, “make sure they don’t scream.”

“Why would they?”

“Humans tend to do that when they see us. It is very… aggravating to us. Humans have a very piercing scream.”

“Right,” Altair said and rolled his eyes. Od left. Altair told his men what was going to happen and the groups naturally spaced themselves out a bit.

A group of twelve proeathans approached and went to one of the human groups. Desmond, and probably every one else, could feel the tension when they first approached. And then, to everyone’s amazement, within twenty seconds, a human laughed. The Ilythians gave one of their own a clearly annoyed look, they’d said something stupid clearly. But the laughter snapped the tension right in half. The now larger group moved away from the others. The room was big enough to house everyone comfortably with room to spare.

After the first one went the others came, just one or two groups at a time. Clearly the Ilythians didn’t want to scare the humans by having a large number of them come at once. Desmond thought that was rather smart on Od’s part. But then, Od was Ando for a reason, kinda came with the territory.

Finally the last proeathan group joined the last human group. There was fighting already going on, controlled rounds clearly. Desmond watched them, standing outside of the groups. Not a single human won, and few made it past half a minute with the Ilythian masters. But there was no hard victory. The Ilythian master would look down at them, cock their head to the side, their eyes flash a brilliant, pale, blue, and then they’d step back.

Desmond joined a random group. The Ilythians noticed instantly and they all, even the one in the middle of a fight, turned to him and inclined their shoulders to him. Well damn. “Odikais stadalla,” they said in greeting, one or two touching their first two fingers to their lips. The humans looked horribly confused and peered at Desmond, trying to figure out who he was. He didn’t know a single one of them.

The fight ended almost as soon as it restarted. The Ilythian master helped the woman up and she stepped back. “Would you like a boute, stadalla?” the translator asked, his accent even worse than Od’s.

“Only if you stop calling me that,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Apologies,” he said.

“Sure then,” and Desmond pushed his hood off, it’d do no good in a fight but make it hard to see. The master bowed to him, and he bowed back. Then he fell back into a fighting stance he knew they hated.

Desmond was good at fighting. He always had been. He’d always wanted to be like Duncan though, a pacifist. But it never worked out. Desmond was, in short, a natural and took to fighting forms like a fish to water. Even before the end of the world he was leaps and bounds above anyone else with just a few hard months of training under three Master Assassins because his body had never really forgotten the forms he’d been taught as a boy. And he’d never forgotten the street fighting he’d learned while on the road or the brief time he’d taken up kick boxing. He’d been too good at it, it’d scared him, so he’d stopped. He always told himself he didn’t want to fight, that there was something wrong with him because he loved it so much, was so good at it, found it so easy.

He didn’t think that anymore. He had a natural inclination, and when he stopped fighting against it, it made him amazing. He’d tried so hard to be bad at fighting, at shooting, at being anything but a pacifist who only fought to defend himself. Now he was what he always should have been, a warrior. He took bits and pieces of all the styles he’d learned as a kid and in the cities and in the Animus, and now from the Ilythians and twisted them together in a way that made the Ilythian masters irritated with him. It made him hard to predict, made him hard to hit, and thus, hard to beat. It didn’t help that he was fast.

The master eyed him, Desmond eyed him back, not looking at his eyes, but at his hips. Ilythians martial arts led with the legs and hips, and was mostly airborne, with lots of jumps and flips. The hands weren’t as dangerous as the legs, which could be around your neck in an instant. The trick was to either not let them get airborne, or to fly with them.

Desmond went into Eagle Vision as the master lunged forward, clearing four feet in the air, his foot aimed at Desmond's throat. But Desmond wasn't there, he had already dodged. The Ilythians knew to not go easy on him, if they went easy on him; they lost. But then what good was being a warrior savant if you lost? Desmond kicked, but missed. Most of the next few tries by both of them were misses, neither of them being able to be quite unpredictable enough to throw the other off.

They separated and Desmond's eyes were past Eagle Vision now. He knew now, from talking with the Ilythians, that this was the sixth sense. It should have been impossible for humans, but if he could see himself in a mirror he'd see his eyes were ice blue, the same as the master he was fighting. There was a weird haze around the master, all the places he could go in the next second. Desmond was seeing the potential of something. He knew the master was looking at him the same way. The trick was, when both fighters could see like this, to make the least likely move and deciding anything had to be done on a synapse rapid level or they'd see it and be able to dodge or block.

Desmond was still deciding what to do when he saw, nearly too late, the master go to move. They dodged right but their shadow moved left and Desmond moved right and forward, throwing out his arm. He clotheslined the master sending them tumbling to the floor, Desmond's arm throbbing from the impact. They flipped to their feet quickly though and Desmond had to guess if he was going to jump or lunge forward. He dodged left just to be on the safe side, but he was there and Desmond jumped back. The master followed, leading with several kicks aimed at his face.

He managed to grab one even as it was cocked back, we went with the leg and used it and his momentum to bowl the master over. Now it was a grappling match and the master was finished. Ilythian forms had few grapples and holds, the point was to never get hit in the first place. So when Desmond got him in a bind he tapped out quickly.

Desmond got to his feet breathing hard, a bit of sweat on his brow. Using the sixth sense and fighting at the same time was still new to him and left him more tired than just normal fighting. The master seemed pleased, even with his loss. The people around them were staring at him in wonder. "You won," someone said.

"Yeah, I tend to do that," Desmond shrugged.

"Who are you?"

"No one terribly important," he said.

"How'd you do that?"

"Oh I'm just that good. Like Altair, I bet he's gonna beat someone too. And excuse me," Desmond beat a quick retreat, not wanting more questions. No one followed. The Ilythians were talking sort of excitedly though and he heard a few proud tones, though he wasn't sure if they were for him, or the master who'd lost.

Desmond went to find another group, far enough away that his fight hadn't been seen. He joined a group and saw it had Rebecca and Shaun in it. When the Ilythians turned to him he just held up a hand, "Don't even. Not in the mood," he said in Ilythian. The Ilythians shrugged, but obeyed.

Desmond watched them fight the humans. Everyone got their ass handed to them, though to his surprise Rebecca lasted the longest. It was like she was covered in oil and the Ilythian she was fighting couldn't seem to get a hit to stick or get her hands on her. As he watched he felt someone come up behind him. He turned to see; it was Cain.

"What do you want?" he asked Cain. The circle ignored them, watching the fighting.

"You have a sixth sense," he said simply, staring at Desmond intently with his wolf blue eyes.

"Wanna make something of it?"

Cain cocked his head at Desmond, "No," he said. "I simply find it interesting. Its almost like you're becoming more proeathan," he smirked and stepped away. Desmond felt himself follow, his feet seeming to move without his consent. "Speaking their language, wearing their clothes, using their weapons," he glanced down at Desmond's wrist. Desmond tugged the sleeve over the thick, black, bracelet he wore down, to hide it. "Covered in their marks," his eyes scanned Desmond's scarred face. "You're as tall as them, can fight like them and now... now you see like them," that made him pleased for some reason.

"This have a point?" Desmond growled.

"Maybe you should rethink your desires, boy," he said.

"And what do you know of my desires?" Desmond asked.

"I think it was something about killing every proeathan? Tell me, does that include your new friends?" he looked over Desmond's shoulder at the Ilythians and nodded in their direction. "Or maybe yourself? You're practically one as it is."

Desmond frowned deeply at him, "I don't want that anymore," he said.

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

Desmond looked away and like his eyes were attached to the back of her head Desmond found Lucy's sole blond hair in the entire room. Cain followed his gaze and Desmond looked away. He couldn't want that, or rather, he didn't want to want it. It was painful. He wouldn't make it uncomfortable by trying to push himself on her, so he was trying to put distance between them, so if she wanted his company she wanted it, and not just thought she did out of pity. Desmond didn't want pity. The idea of her being with him because he couldn't let go of him (not that she'd ever do that, but the thought had crossed his mind) made him feel wretched. So he was just going to let it happen, organically, and try to be the kind of guy she wanted, instead of the kind of guy she was expected to be with.

"Ah," Cain said with understanding. "Good luck with that," he added

Desmond narrowed his eyes at Cain, "What's it to you?"

"I like her," Cain said, "She's a nice girl, and you don't deserve her in the slightest," Desmond glared at him.

"So what, you're buddies now or something?"

"No," Cain said. "But we both can appreciate the company we keep, away from critical, or many, eyes. You see her now, but you didn't see her the past five months. Can barely leave her room, can barely eat in public. The Angel of the Lake is a powerful symbol."

"What is that? No one's told me," Desmond said.

"The first plantation they took, she went in unarmed, and walked right past all the security. When she came out she did so with the children from the seed bank, and the plantation had been taken. She didn't do it herself of course, but rumors popped up, stories started. If you want to believe the common folk she's immortal and cannot be seen by the proeathans, also she has wings and eyes made of blue fire," Desmond laughed at that. "She's a symbol of hope for them, because she really did walk into every proeathan plantation by herself, unarmed, and kill the Overseers."

"Why would they bother her so much though?"

"What would you do if you were in the presence of your savior?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know," Desmond said, "I was sort of under the impression that was me," he said, unimpressed with the entire savior thing as a whole.

Cain chuckled, "But no one will ever know you, will they?"

"That's the hope," Desmond said.

"Then imagine, if you would, if Christians today could go back and meet Jesus. What do you think would happen?" Desmond frowned angrily. "Exactly," Cain said, seeing Desmond understood. "She still doesn't go out where the common people will see her. She's the only blonde in all of Demeter, and she doesn't like to be stared at."

"I can imagine," Desmond frowned. He wished he could change that. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

"So remember that when you try to get what you want, boy," Cain said.

"I'm not going to 'get' anything," he said irritably. "You're right, I don't deserve her. If I want something, I need to earn it."

"Good," Cain said, "Because she's important. More than you can even imagine."

"No, I can," Desmond said. Cain cocked his head to the side. "She's important to me. More than anything. All I've wanted to do was be near her again, talk to her. So trust me, not going to screw this up."

Cain smiled a little, "Good." And then they both looked at someone's yell nearby. "And there he goes," Cain sighed as they both watched Altair launch himself to his feet and demand a rematch of the Ilythian who'd beat him. "Never changes," Cain's voice was... fond. Desmond looked at him for a few seconds before going over to Altair's group so he didn't kill the Ilythian master by accident.


	8. Updraft

The marksmanship evaluation went over much better than the hand to hand evaluation. All the Ilythian masters stood back, watching, eyes blue, a few took notes. The humans took turns in groups shooting various proeathan weapons and the few human weapons they had.

The Ilythians were fascinated with the human weapons. Proeathan firearms were gauss rifles, meaning they worked via magnets and electro magnetism. Or something. It might as well have been magic to Desmond. The ammo thusly was non explosive. Human ballistics were insanely different obviously. They didn’t have enough ammo for them to waste on everyone getting to shoot the human rifles though. So only their top marksmen got to use them and show off to the Ilythians who were very much impressed. It helped ease the tension even more, to see the tall, stoic, Ilythians seem so fascinated by a human rifle.

Desmond stood back with the Ilythians, watching. He wasn’t participating, as usual, simply keeping an eye out. The Ilythians kept a respectful distance from him, but didn’t allow him too close, and definitely not close enough to touch them, even accidentally. Touching him a fight was one thing, but doing so here would have been unthinkable to them.

He was surprised when he saw Shaun was good with a gun. He always boasted to have killed someone, before everything went to shit. Desmond had always suspected it was a lie to make himself feel better about being an Assassin. But seeing Shaun now, eye looking down the T sight, he knew the red head (only red head in Demeter too) had probably actually done it. He could tell by the way Shaun grimaced when he sighted up and pulled the trigger but didn’t flinch or blink when the gun fired. Whoever Shaun had killed it hadn’t been pretty, it had been messy and personal. Desmond made a mental note to talk to him, and Rebecca. He still owed Shaun the rest of that story he’d started in Mexico. Of course he probably knew by now.

Rebecca however, was awful. She didn’t like weapons still it seemed, never had honestly. At least that hadn’t changed. She shook when she put the rifle up to her shoulder and fired, blinking each time she pulled the trigger. Her shots always went wide. She seemed afraid of the weapon. Which was good honestly. Guns were dangerous, deadly, and not for the weak hearted. He didn’t know if Rebecca was still as optimistic as she had been the last time he’d really seen her. At least Desmond hoped her spirit wasn’t too beaten down.

He didn’t look when Lucy shot. He didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see. He wasn’t ready to really look at her, or talk to her face to face.

When he turned away he saw someone watching him and scowled. It was his _father_. But Andrew wasn’t looking at the soldiers shooting, he was looking at him. “What?” he asked shortly.

“Hello, son,” Andrew said calmly and Desmond felt suddenly so uncomfortable like he just wanted to crawl out of his skin. For the first time it felt like Andrew was looking _at him_ and not just through him. It made him feel oddly self conscious for the old man to be looking at him the same way he looked at some task he was interested in.

“What do you want?” Desmond asked and crossed his arms across his chest. He hadn’t been avoiding Andrew, but they hadn’t been near each other and frankly Desmond wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t need or want Andrew around him because he’d do what he always did and marginalize Desmond, push him away, and make him unimportant. And Desmond didn’t know how to deal with his father when he did that. His first instinct was to be angry, because that was easy, and something his father actually responded to, usually with anger in return. But he wasn’t that guy any more. He was in control, of himself and this situation. He wasn’t going to let his father see that old, angry, child, he’d been before. The world deserved better than that.

“You look good,” Andrew said and that sent Desmond so sideways it was like he’d been hit by a semi going sixty. Andrew didn’t give out compliments unless you did something to please him. “You look like an adult,” and Desmond honestly had no idea how to respond to that. And he wasn’t even being his normal snide self to Desmond either, or like he was tired with Desmond’s existence, tired of the burden Desmond was as his son.

“I am an adult,” Desmond said.

“Well now you look like one,” and there it was. That jab. Before he’d been a child, stupid, not to be trusted with important information or missions. Now, now after thirty fucking _years_ Desmond ‘was an adult’.

Desmond just turned away from him, he didn’t want to talk to his father, he didn’t want to look at him, he didn’t want to breathe the same air he was breathing. Andrew could just drop dead as far as he cared. A few of the Ilythians looked at him questioningly, they didn’t know English, but Desmond gave away nothing. He just stood and watching the rest of the officers shoot, and ignored Andrew, who seemed to realize he wasn’t welcome, because he didn’t try and talk to Desmond again.

The shooting ended and the Ilythians talked amongst themselves before one went over to Od and spoke to him, who spoke to Altair. Then Altair was telling everyone they could leave, which seemed to relieve many people. Both species filed out of the room, going their own directions, back to their own people, the Ilythians though moved in huddled groups, talking rapidly with quick hand gestures, clearly already planning the training they’d be giving the officers. The only ones left were those in charge.

“So how was that?” Altair asked Od once nearly everyone had left.

“My men were impressed. We’ve never seen humans fight, most of them just run,” and Altair wasn’t the only one who scowled at that. Ezio and Shaun shared the look as well. “It will take a day or so to decide on how best to teach you. They must decide what is the best way to teach those without the sixth sense.”

“Is it really so different?” Jake asked.

“Imagine trying to explain a color to someone who can’t see,” Od said. “You do not see like us, you do not understand the world like us because you simply cannot, you didn’t evolve that way. That is what my men must figure out how to do, you have no sense as an advantage like we do. Well… most of you,” he glanced at Desmond, his ancestors, though seemed to be avoiding even looking at Cain who was lingering though no doubt Altair didn’t want him around. “And wish to test to see who does have the ability you refer to as Eagle Vision. Those who have the capacity must be trained to activate it at will and trained in how to use it as it will be invaluable when we move on Atlantis.”

“How will you test that?” Altair asked.

“Demeter will need a blood sample. Say what you want to your men, but _all_ humans must be tested. Even if they don’t wish to fight there are areas of our technology, even here in Demeter, that cannot be accessed without seeing it properly, which you _can’t_ see properly because you haven’t been trained how to look.”

“Okay,” Altair said, “we’ll make it happen. It might take a few days, its a lot of people.”

“That’s fine. Test your officers first, so those who have it can begin training first and can help those later on.”

“Very well.”

“That is all I have for you,” Od said. He looked over at Inti and gave him a little nod.

The other Ilythian spoke, he did so rarely, letting Od or Zorya do the talking. His accent was so thick he was nearly unintelligible. “It is just summer now,” he said and it was a stream of words all strung together without seemingly any breaks, “our kin are busy making sure they’ve have enough food in Atlantis and the other bases to last through the winter when the snows come. But once they do come, they will turn their eyes towards Africa.” He grimaced and looked at Od pleadingly, why did his Ando make him speak this tongue to these humans? Desmond grinned to himself. Od said nothing and Inti continued. 

“They don’t know where Demeter is, but they can triangulate a general position of the northern portion of the continent as you’ve only attacked plantations in the north and not the great orchards to the south. The fleet makes semi regular passes across the continent as I’m sure you’re aware of. Once the winter comes their passes will become more frequent and attempts to leave Demeter will our own fleet will become difficult. We _must_ leave Demeter before the last of the temperate plantations are harvested. Or we will never make it to Atlantis.”

“So when’s that?” Ezio asked, “What’s our time table?”

“The middle of fall,” Inti said. “Mmm, I believe you call it ‘Halloween’?”

“So we have till the end of October, and it’s nearly the end of May now. So a little over four months to get ourselves ready,” Altair said.

“Yes,” Inti said, “but if we can do it faster it would be optimal. Catch the Adjatevs while they are trying to stockpile, and have their fleets scattered across the globe bringing resources to Atlantis.”

“So three months,” Altair said.

“Is best,” he said.

Altair sighed and rubbed his mouth and looked at the others. “We’ll make it work. We have a sixth month head start on those who’ve never fought before. We’ll be ready in three, four at the max. Early to mid October.”

“Good,” Inti said and looked at Od, who nodded again and Inti seemed greatly relieved he didn’t have to talk anymore.

“That is all we have for you,” Od said. “You know what we need of you and we know what you want of us. Once you’ve tested your men for Eagle Vision we will begin that training _immediately_ , while we sort out the rest of the training regiment.”

“Fine,” Altair said shortly.

“Good day,” Od inclined his head to them, “ _Peace stadalla_ ,” he added to Desmond and then he, Inti and Zorya walked away, the same way their men had gone.


	9. Ocular

Desmond kept to himself in the big, cafeteria style, communal eating area. He just wanted to show up, eat, and then go do what he had to do. Most people didn’t notice him, he was a member of a mass, darker skin, dark hair, just like everyone else. His facial scars were easy to ignore too. He wanted it that way, just be totally anonymous. He didn’t know how long that’d last with how much he hung around the others and the army’s officers were starting to recognize him as one of the big players along with his ancestors. Only took them five days: they were smart.

It’d been a week since the Ilythians had arrived. Everyone was still getting tested for Eagle Vision but thirteen of the officers had tested positive for the ability. According to the Ilythians because of how much the proeathan blood had spread through the human population that Eagle Vision was actually much more common than they thought. It was just that most people never knew they had it, or learned to use it. Or they had it as children but it was dismissed as an overactive imagination. Supposedly one in five hundred humans would have Eagle Vision, and in a concentrated group of the best of the humans they had it would appear more because those with more proeathan blood tended to be… better. Not at anything in particular, but what they wanted to do they were just _better_. They were still wading through the few thousand members of their little human army and then they still had to test the noncombatives. There were going to be more, they just had to _find them_.

The Eagle Vision training had, as Od had promised, started immediately. They’d only started the fighting training yesterday, which was full of tactics and proeathan strategy half the time. The other half dedicated to how to actually attack a proeathan that could probably sense you at best or have actual premonition at worst. Range was their friend but all proeathans were trained to close the distance as quickly as possible when fighting humans where they could be quickly dispatched. That’s how they’d fought during the first war, and it was how they fought now if they were able, changing tactics only slightly in the past five years to be more intimidating as nowadays humans were more likely to run than stand their ground. Desmond remained the only person to fight an Ilythian battle master and win, so far at least. He didn’t doubt that Altair would join him in that regard, and probably Ezio and Hawk, and he didn’t doubt Cain could handle a proeathan easily. The rest would have to work as a group to take down a proeathan, which was becoming shockingly obvious to everyone. That was how they’d won the last war after Toba: they’d overwhelmed the proeathans with their numbers.

Desmond was enjoying lunch though, between training blocks. The food was good at least, and he kept it simple. And it was all real _human_ food. None of the processed stuff he’d eaten at Pluto’s or the rations while on the road or what he’d been able to scavenge while on his own or the weird shit the Ilythians ate. It was human food and there were more than enough cooks among the former slaves that they could, while maybe not cook for everyone, direct Demeter on how to do it. It meant that Desmond, and everyone else, got human cuisine like they hadn’t had in five years. And Desmond did what any red blooded American would do when given this opportunity he hadn’t had in years: he had steak and potatoes. And it was _perfect_.

Desmond glanced up from his lunch at a commotion on the other side of the cafeteria, where one of the three exits was. He couldn’t see over the crowd that was gathering and frankly he didn’t give a shit anyway. He went back to his food, ignoring everything.

“Ah, there you are,” he looking up when Demeter spoke and appeared next to him.

“What?” but she was gone already, leaving him sitting there befuddled.

The commotion got closer and Desmond just tried to enjoy his food. Then it was suddenly right in front of him and he had to look up.

People had circled his table, all talking excitedly, and that weirded him out, but standing opposite him was the reason they’d all come. There were two people. One was Jake, standing with an annoyed look on his face, arms crossed looking like a body guard. In front of him, was what everyone was excited about. And frankly Desmond didn’t blame them either. Lucy was standing in front of Desmond, wearing her normal, practical, clothes she wore in training, her hair held out of her face with several hair clips since she couldn’t pull it back anymore. He’d never seen her with her hair like that. Desmond, as usual, thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He was pretty sure he liked her better with short hair too.

“I thought you didn’t do people,” Desmond said and only half the people quieted so their conversation was mostly drowned out by their excited twittering.

“I make exceptions,” she said.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Come with me,” she said.

“I’m eating,” he complained.

“Come on,” she nodded towards the door.

“Tell me what you want first,” he said firmly, “I don’t do shit without being told why anymore, even by pretty girls.”

Lucy leaned forward, and said softly, “Lucy wants to see you _stadalla_ ,” just loud enough for him to hear. He frowned and then looked over her shoulder at Jake and realized why he looked so annoyed. He was playing bodyguard to a hologram who _looked_ like Lucy.

Desmond’s hand squeezed the knife and then before he knew what he was doing he slammed it into the hologram’s hand on the table. The crowd cried out, silence lasting a second before they started yelling. “SHUT UP!” Desmond thundered, standing, now pissed. The crowd became hushed. “Drop the act,” he told the hologram but he had a good idea who it was.

Venus just smiled, but didn’t, she just lifted her hand from the table and showed it was crowd who ahhed in amazement like she’d just performed a miracle. “Come walk with me,” she told Desmond, a very un-Lucy look on her face now.

Desmond grabbed the steak knife up from the table and pointed it at her, “Fuck off,” he told Venus, then put it on the table next to his plate and half eaten lunch. There was no room to back up away from his table so he just climbed on top of the table and jumped off the other side. “Jake,” he said and gave him an annoyed look, “leave her.”

Jake shrugged and followed Desmond through the muttering crowd. He didn’t see what happened to Venus but by an outcry he assumed they’d tried to touch her and she’d evaporated.

“She really wanna see me?” Desmond asked when they left the cafeteria.

“Yes,” Jake said.

“Why’d she send Venus?”

“She didn’t. She just asked one of them to get you. Venus asked me to help her with something and I got roped into this shit.”

“Where is she?”

“The nursery,” Jake said, “she’s having lunch with the kids.”

Desmond’s chest ached, “She would be,” he said.

“She likes it there.”

“At least she feels safe there. I’m sure the children don’t bother her like the adults do.”

“They don’t. They all think she’s their mother though.”

“Worse things in life than thinking a beautiful woman who loves you is your mother,” Desmond said feeling hollow suddenly being reminded of his own mother. His poor mother who’d been depressed his entire life and who had never held him, never loved him. He couldn’t even remember her face she was such a distant memory, the most clear one being the day she’d found him in Duncan’s room screaming and crying. She’d yelled at him to stop being so loud before seeing what had happened and picked him up and taken him away. It had been the one time his mother had held him, the one time she’d hugged him, and the one time she’d spoken to him. She’d been so broken and no one had helped her, no one had given her the help she’d needed. She or his brother.

“I guess,” Jake shrugged.

“You guess?” Desmond asked.

“Well, all of mine are dead,” he said.

“… Well one of them might be alive,” Desmond said.

“I doubt it. I mean Malik’s got no hope. But mine? Ha! Like I’d be lucky to have both my parents alive.”

Desmond looked at him, “So you think you dad’s alive?”

Jake looked at Desmond, “I was adopted,” he said. Desmond stared at him, “Eugene was a pasty ginger with a great haircut and a ton of freckles and liked to fix machines.”

“I didn’t know that,” Desmond said.

“Yeah, no one does. Don’t like to think about it.”

“And your mom?”

“ _Moms_ ,” Jake said, “we were adopted by lesbians. One was an ex-Mormon, hence Nasir, the other was a black lady from the Bible belt.” Desmond continued to stare at Jake. “What?”

“And I thought my family was diverse. So a black lady and a Mormon lady adopted a ginger and a Arab boy? Sounds like a great sitcom.” That made Jake laugh so hard he had to stop walking.

“Yeah my friends usually said that when I told them too,” Jake said with a grin. “Who knows maybe my life will be a Hallmark movie only with about a hundred percent more gay sex.”

“You say that like its a good thing,” Desmond teased him.

“Well if I remember it _was_ a good thing for you Mr. So Thirsty I Slept With the First Guy I Could Get,” Jake teased right back.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he agreed as they got on the lift that would take them to the nursery level.

“And then some,” Jake said.

“You know what she wants?” Desmond asked and felt himself getting butterflies.

“Nope. I think it has something to do with the Eagle Vision,” he shrugged. Jake didn’t have Eagle Vision, not a high enough concentration of proeathan blood. Lucy didn’t either, which made sense since she was a synth. He frowned thinking the word. He didn’t like thinking about her like that. She was human, same as the rest of them.

“But no better idea?”

“No, sorry,” Jake said, the lift glided to a halt and the outer door opened. They walked down the short hallway to the inner door that opened to the nursery. It had been transformed in a gigantic playground with dozens of swings and slides and a ball pit and a huge sandbox. It was impressive.

Lucy was sitting near the entrance, on a bench, like a mom watching her kids play, but she wasn’t looking at the kids. Instead she was looking up at Venus. “There he is. Just like I said, I brought him,” Venus said proudly and upon seeing Desmond shifted into Lucy’s form, previously she’d looked like herself, like a mother goddess. Desmond scowled at her as they approached. “What is it Desmond?” Venus asked in Lucy’s voice.

“Stop that,” Desmond said since when he glanced down at Lucy she looked horribly uncomfortable to know Desmond still loved her so much Venus would still look like her. 

“What?” Venus asked.

“Stop looking like her,” he said shortly, “right now.”

“What? But I’m just-

“Don’t give me your ‘following my programming’ bullshit. You’re out of those chains. Now _stop_ looking like her or I’ll make you,” he said and it was a threat he could carry out.

“But-

“I don’t want you to _ever_ look like her again. Understand?” he demanded.

“I…” she frowned, closed her mouth and then shifted into Altair’s form, “Yes Desmond,” she said in Altair’s voice.

“Good. And don’t pull a stunt like that again. That goes for you too Demeter,” he called a bit louder, knowing she was listening. “I know you think you’re trying to help, but all its doing is pissing me off.”

Venus frowned apologetically, which was the weirdest look on Altair’s face ever, “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You should be. Now get out,” and she vanished.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lucy said softly.

He looked down at her, “No, I did,” he said. “I don’t want them to pressure you just because of me,” and next to him Jake made an approving noise. “I don’t want being around me uncomfortable.”

Lucy smiled a little, “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Now what did you want to see me about?” he asked.

“Hold on, do I need to hang out? Cause I promised I’d go see Altair before next training block.”

“No you can go, thanks,” Lucy said, “Don’t do anything unsightly,” she added, giving him a look.

Jake laughed, “Its Altair, how unsightly do you honestly think it’d get?”

“Who knows maybe he’d kiss you in front of people. What would people think?” and Jake laughed harder.

“That’s the day the earth stops,” he said, “See you,” and he left.

“I take it that’s a running joke I missed out on?” Desmond asked.

“Jake and Altair are sleeping together,” she said very bluntly.

Desmond blinked, “Okay,” he said slowly. “Who’s the big spoon?”

“Who do you think?”

Desmond snorted, “Right, why’d I bother to ask? So what did you want?”

“I don’t have Eagle Vision,” she said.

“Yeah, we know that.”

“But I have something _like it_ ,” she continued. “I can see things normal humans can’t, but not like how you do in Eagle Vision. Altair described the state to me, in detail. The world loses its color, and things are sort of fuzzy, and depth perception sort of goes out the fucking window because everything is so bright. I see in full color,” she said.

Desmond frowned, “Can you do it on command?”

“I don’t know. Unless I’m looking at something I shouldn’t be able to see I don’t even notice,” she said.

“Well what did you want me to do?”

“The Ilythians won’t give me the time, because I’m-“ her mouth worked, “I’m a synth,” she said at last. “They said a synth can’t have Eagle Vision, our eyes are too underdeveloped or something equally spiciest. But I _do_ see things, Pluto knew I could, they _know_ I can. They just chose to do nothing instead of figuring out what I can do.”

“So you want me to train you?” EV training was a closed session. Only those with Eagle Vision were allowed to participate, because it involved applying specific stimuli to the eyes and visual processes of the brain. Doing such to someone without the ability would do nothing or trigger a seizure even in people who didn’t suffer from epilepsy.

“Yes,” she said nodding.

He thought it over a second. She was right. She had the right to know what was going on with her. If she didn’t have Eagle Vision she might have something else that was equally as useful. And if Pluto knew that meant they were just choosing to bury it. “Okay,” he said. “Come with me,” he offered her his hand. She grabbed it and he helped her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they got onto the lift and Desmond moved his finger across the control screen in the configuration that would get them where they needed to go.

“Someplace quiet,” Desmond said. Lucy looked nervous a moment as the lift started moving. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not… going to do anything to you. Its just easier in the quiet, I can’t do it with so much noise myself.”

“Oh.”

“Lucy-“ he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say to her. “You can choose whatever you want,” he said after a few seconds trying to compile his thoughts. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Really?” she asked him flatly.

“I mean I’d like it but… you don’t owe me anything. I mean, I _killed you_. I think that’s pretty good reason to want to stay _far_ away from you. I don’t exactly blame you,” he looked at the wall, not her, as he spoke. “I’ve changed,” he said, “and maybe not for the better. I was so desperate to return for selfish reasons, not because the world needed me. I’m a selfish asshole honestly, I don’t know how anyone actually stands me.”

“You do your best,” she said.

“And so far my best has been shit. I doomed my species, I rose the central city of the proeathans, I keep _fucking it up_. I’m trying though,” he looked at her desperately, “You have to know I’m trying.”

“I do,” she said. “And I’m grateful you are. I was so afraid of what you’d do when I told you. I honestly never expected you to… be okay with it.”

“I’m not,” Desmond said shortly, “but I’m trying. Because you deserve that. I’m the reason you’re as you are. And you deserve better than that, you both do.”

She looked away from him, mastering herself, “Thank you,” she said softly.

The lift stopped and irised open revealing one of Demeter’s garden levels. This garden was a temperate one with wild grass and flowers covering the floor and all the plants carefully planted in rows or clumps. It felt a lot like South Dakota during the summer, cool, the air crisp with a touch of heat if you stood in the sun.

Desmond led Lucy into the garden and sat down on the soft ground, one without surface rocks so the grass was very soft. “So when I met the Ilythians I could only go into Eagle Vision. Though you know I can do more now,” she nodded. “I could only do it when I tried, and then only when it was so dark that I’d only be able to see if I went into that mode. The sixth sense is in color, like what you’re describing, but you have to tailor it to what you want. I learned to fight with mine, so I can see the future about two seconds before it happens. Not useful in normal situations, but when you fights two seconds is invaluable. I used to have to be in Eagle Vision to go into the sixth sense. But now,” he blinked and went into it.

“Blue eyes,” Lucy said softly.

“Yeah. Proeathans are naturally colorblind, they _always_ see in their sort of version of Eagle Vision which is so much better than ours its scary. Using their sixth sense allows them to see in full color.”

“How did you learn to do that? Go straight into it?”

“Practice,” Desmond went back to his normal vision, which wasn’t much different than the sixth sense other than Lucy wasn’t waving back and forth or crying. He laid back on the soft grass, “Lay down,” he said, she laid down next to him. “The trick is to learn to relax and contract your eyes,” he said. “If I want to go into Eagle Vision I relax my eyes, which is why it becomes so hazy.”

“And if you want to see in the sixth sense you sharpen?”

“Yeah kinda. Its difficult to explain how to contract your eyes since your eyes just naturally relax and go out of focus, its easier. Demeter,” he called.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“Give us a ceiling, something with depth.”

“Yes, Desmond,” she said and the ceiling changed from blue to a multi layered image of a forest from the floor. The tight foreground was sticks and some grass, the midground trees, and the background more trees and a large rock in the distance. It was all perfectly sharp in a way real life or pictures weren’t and looked like something from a video game. “Perfect, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“So relax your eyes.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.

“Once you can blink and keep your eyes unfocused we’ll do something else,” Desmond said, his eyes relaxing into unfocused, but not all the way into Eagle Vision. “Lemmie when you can do that it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Okay,” Lucy said and they laid there in silence. Half an hour passed. “Okay I think I can do it good enough now.”

“Perfect,” Desmond said and contracted his eye to see the far background of the great image in crystal clear definition. “Now I want you to focus on the background, on the level with the rock. And _just_ the background. If you bring the mid or foreground into focus you did it wrong.”

“And this is what you did?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, “Every night after fighting practice I’d stare up at the sky until I could barely see and learn to control my focus. Relaxing is easy, it took me a while to learn to contract my pupils at will. But now I can.”

“So I shouldn’t feel bad if I can’t do it right away?”

“Correct,” Desmond said.

“Okay,” and then they were quiet. They stayed like that until dinner, not saying anything to one another and not really needing to anyway.


	10. They Sing Among the Branches

On the list of people Desmond needed to sit down and talk to Clay was near the top. The guy hated him because he didn’t understand just _what_ Desmond had done. What had Ezio said? Clay said he was the antichrist, and yeah, Desmond wouldn’t exactly disagree at this point. But it was so beyond biblical and Clay wasn’t the only one Desmond had heard in the past week or so talking softly about it. Normal people, ones who did work in Demeter similar to Hawk and Clay, talking about it. Sometimes they’d steal glances at him. 

They also weren’t the only ones and he’d heard ‘demon’ uttered more than once. Which again he didn’t exactly blame, since he was dressed all in dark colors and had weird marks on his face that glowed sometimes when he wasn’t paying attention. Still he knew where the rumors were starting: Clay. Because Clay apparently believed in that biblical shit. Desmond was getting sick of it, since even some of the officers were wary of him, especially when he tapped into his sixth sense.

Short version; he needed to straighten this shit out with Clay.

Clay was often in one of two places. One was the main war room, staring at the great, holographic, map of the world, or at his station’s screen. The other was in one of Demeter’s tropical gardens. Apparently he’d acclimated well to the tropical sun and weather incredibly well and liked that weather.

Desmond was waiting for him in his usual garden. Standing in front of a big tree where Clay liked to come, meditate, and do whatever it was he did when he looked far back through his genetic line. He heard Clay approach, but didn’t turn or acknowledge him. He knew Clay knew they’d have to talk eventually, but Clay was non confrontational, so he’d never go to Desmond to talk. Meaning he had to be the bigger man and seek Clay out.

“What are you doing here?” Clay asked after a good minute of silence.

Desmond turned slowly, “We need to talk,” he said.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Clay said.

“Tough shit,” Desmond said mercilessly. “We’re talking, we can do it here or I’ll have Demeter broadcast my voice to you anywhere in the ark. What’s your choice?”

Clay scowled at him, but Desmond wouldn’t be denied. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms, “Start talking.”

“First; hey Clay you look great and not dead,” Clay didn’t seem amused. “Second, you _gotta_ stop telling people I’m the fucking antichrist.”

“Except you are.”

“Except I’m fucking _not_ ,” it was Desmond’s turn to scowl. “Do you even know what the antichrist is?”

“Of course, I know what the bible says,” Clay rolled his eyes.

Desmond blinked, unimpressed. “The antichrist is the Abraham religions rationalized the story of the _stadalla_ ,” Desmond said. “Most human religions have a version of the antichrist, as a person, or event. Because the proeathan culture was so strong in our species lives that it became the stories we made up. Their Stars? Roman gods. Important leaders from the proeathan world? Eventually became gods in our religions. The story of the apocalypse, Ragnarok, the antichrist, the end of the Mayan calendar, the coming of the Greek Titans. All stories told to explain one thing; me.”

“That seems oftly presumptuous of you,” Clay said.

“Except it isn’t,” Desmond said. “When proeathans left humans had to find new ways to explain things they saw as the knowledge of technology and science faded from the collective memory of a tiny, traumatized and shell shocked, population that remained after the Toba Event. So they became stories and our gods. But there’s a common thread through all those stories, all those cultures, like dragons; the end. Or _an_ end I guess,” he frowned. “But man you can’t go around saying I’m the antichrist people think I’m a fucking _demon_ ,” he sighed.

“I never said that.”

“Antichrist equals demon. And it doesn’t help my name is Desmond. You take out two letters you get demon and I know crackpot conspiracy theorists exist out there still.”

Clay approached him slowly, “You still rose Atlantis.”

“I needed to.”

“Why?”

“Its complicated okay.”

“No. _Why_?” Clay pressed.

“I need to get to the arch at its center.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“My ancestors called you the antichrist.”

“Who?”

“Solomon.”

“King Solomon?”

“I don’t know. I think he might have been older, from the time of the proeathans. But he _did_ call you the antichrist.”

Desmond frowned deeply. “Hawk told me you get weird visions and shit. How’s that work exactly?”

“Its my unconscious mind trying to communicate with my conscious mind. The shades come strongest after I meditate, and tell me what’s been, what I forgot during my trance.”

“And they’re always right?”

“They’ve yet to be wrong. One taught me how to fly a numia. Pluto actually.”

“You’re related to Pluto?”

“So are you,” Clay reminded him.”

“Right… right,” Desmond looked down a moment. “I’m not the antichrist,” he said again. “I’m the _stadalla_.”

“Then what’s that if not the proeathan word for antichrist?”

“Only through one definition. I had one of the Ilythian scholars spell it out for me, because if they were gonna fucking call me that I might as well know exactly what it was. Think of it more like the Mayan calendar. The end is supposed to be the end of the world. Except its just the end of the era. Like we’re in the era of jaguar now or something I don’t remember I saw a History doc on it seven years ago,” he shrugged. “Regardless. What I’m getting at is that most proeathans choose to define _stadalla_ as ‘the end of the world’ like most humans define the apocalypse, or the fucking antichrist. But its more like… the in between. Its a transition between two times.”

“How else do they define _stadalla_?”

“Well when you translate it directly into English _stadalla_ is something like,” he squinted, making a face, to remember exactly, “they which bring about the epoch’s end. Or civilization, depends on the dialects or language. That is _exactly_ what _stadalla_ means.”

Clay looked at him then closed his eyes, looking like he was thinking. He kept his eyes closed for five minutes and Desmond let him have his time. “Solomon said that they would bring about the end of civilization as we knew it,” he said and opened his eyes. “And then he quoted a line of scripture about the antichrist.”

“Didn’t you _just say_ that the shades are your unconscious trying to talk to your conscious mind? It was putting it into terms you understood since I’m sure _stadalla_ would have meant literally nothing to you.”

“But its still the end.”

“Its a middle,” Desmond said stubbornly. “The world’s not going to end, nothing’s going to explode. I _won’t let it_. What I will do is make sure our species is safe. The proeathans destroyed our civilization.”

“So what? You’re going to destroy theirs?”

“The world ended for humans when the proeathans destroyed our civilization and took everything from us. I’m going to level the playing field.”

Clay frowned. “Balance it out,” he said.

“That’s the plan.”

Clay looked thoughtful, “Its weird,” he said, “Cain was right, and wrong about you. He said you’d rip the world apart, but you don’t want too,” Desmond shook his head in agreement.

“Spoilers immortals are wrong _a lot_ ,” Desmond said.

“But he was right too,” Clay said. “I don’t know if the others have noticed. Or maybe they don’t want to see. But you’re different. The guy I saw on Hawke Island that time… that’s not you anymore. You’re driven now, you got this- this _look_ in your eye. Sometimes it scares me. But you aren’t that kid I saw back then; you’ve grown up.”

Desmond sighed in slight frustration, “You sound like my dad.”

“Andrew’s talked to you?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said I looked ‘like an adult’,” and he made finger quotes with both hands. “Asshole.”

“He’s trying,” Clay said and Desmond looked at him, “I’ve talked to him, and I knew him. He didn’t realize really what he did Desmond, to you, to his family. You’re the same in that when you see something you just put on blinders and go for it until you get it… or you break it. I know you think he doesn’t care-

“He doesn’t,” Desmond said firmly, “He’s the self centered man he’s always been.”

“He’s trying.”

“Well its a little too little too late,” Desmond snapped. “Maybe he could have tried when I was eight.”

“I’m not your enemy,” Clay said.

“Ship’s sailed, he didn’t catch the boat. He can die for all I care.” Clay said nothing to that.

“Did you know?” Clay asked, “About Atlantis?”

“What about Atlantis?”

“That it’d be where you had to go?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, “all along. Well since I left. The AIs told me. Atlantis has always been their end game. They always meant for you guys to build up the army. But really they don’t expect you to do much but be a distraction so I can get through.”

“They’re going to throw away thousands of lives,” Clay said.

“Price we pay.”

“Price you’d pay?”

Desmond gave him a level tone, “I already am responsible for six billion deaths, Clay,” he said without a shred of guilt, “a few thousand more are just numbers at this point.” He couldn’t let it consume him. Not like it had before. He’d agonized about it so much, about all that meaningless death he’d unleashed upon humanity.

“What do you need a distraction for?”

“To get to the Unnamed. Its a door. I need to go through it.”

“What’s on the other side.”

“I don’t know,” Desmond said, “the records of what lies within the Unnamed were lost along with a lot of proeathan records. I just know that that’s where the map on my body is pointing to with literally every square inch of skin. So we’ll find out when we get there.”

“Those AI of yours better be right Desmond,” Clay said.

“They are,” Desmond said, “I trust them.”

“Really?”

“Really. They wouldn’t lie to me. They _can’t_ lie to me.”

“Mmm.”

“So, no more saying I’m the antichrist?”

“No,” Clay said, “I’ll just call you _stadalla_ and make my techs have to ask our new proeathan friends what that means instead.”

“You’re a real charmer, Clay,” Desmond sighed.

“I try,” Clay allowed himself a slight smile.

“So we cool now?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” Desmond held out his hand. Clay took it and they shook.

“Give your dad a chance Desmond,” Clay said, squeezing his hand when he went to draw away. “I know its been rough between you two, but he doesn’t know what to do, he never really did. But he _is_ trying. I promise you that.”

“And how would you know that?” Desmond asked, squeezing Clay’s hand back.

“Because I’m his conscious,” he said, “and I know you won’t believe me, but he does care about you.”

“Sure he does,” and Desmond shortly, yanking his hand away. “Nice talk Clay. I’ll see you around,” and he walked around Clay, out of the garden and to the lift. He slammed his gloved hand palm open on the directional interface. “Demeter,” he said sharply, “take me to the Ilythian training area.”

“Yes Desmond. Should I inform Master Vishnu that you’re coming?” she asked as the door irised closed

“Yes,” he said, violence in his voice.

“Very well. Please watch your emotions Desmond, you’re making it difficult,” she said and above the light flickered. Desmond could see the glyphs burning so brightly he saw they clearly through his long sleeved shirt.

“Sorry,” he said and made them fade, though held onto that drive he felt. He told himself when he first learned his father was here that he wasn’t going to let his father affect him. That he was going to ignore him, pretend he wasn’t there. It was too little, too late, and Desmond was past needing daddy’s approval.

Desmond punched the wall of the lift so hard his knuckles went numb. Angry that that was still a lie.

 


	11. Fly Through

There was a blinking light in the distance. Three short blinks followed by three long blinks, and then three short ones again and then a long pause. Then the pattern repeated. Desmond knew the pattern, but he couldn’t remember what it meant.

He stood between four pillars that formed a rectangle, below was a nebula, above the starry skies. Seven smoky figures surrounded that, their shapes undetermined. Beyond them he could see many pairs of gleaming yellow dots that blinked on and off at random. Eyes. Yes, of course they were eyes.

But the light in the distance. A large red star, flickering in that rapid pattern. Over and over again. He couldn’t figure it out though. He cocked his head at it. The longer he looked the more the stars and pillars faded and a new foreground appeared. A moor stretched before him, and a great pit yawned open just in front of his toes when he looked down. He didn’t fear falling though and instead looked down into the pit. It looked like a quarry, with circular holes bored into the sides. A mine, it was a mine. 

There was no one working. The mine was quiet and then a light from above, brighter than the sun, drew his eyes swiftly upwards. He was just in time to see a great ball of light streak down and hit the center of the mine. The world went white.

Desmond woke in one go, the dream seeping around him. Then it came to him. The flickering red light. He sat bolt upright and nearly leapt out of bed. “Demeter,” he said, yanking on fresh clothes.

“Yes Desmond?” Demeter asked in the same patient, measured, voice she always had.

“What time is it?”

“Its four in the morning,” she said.

“Fuck… can’t wait though,” he muttered to himself. “Wake the others. Something’s happened.”

“Yes, we know,” Demeter said.

“You know?”

“When you project in your dreams, we know,” she said, she appeared next to him. “Its dangerous to do that, Desmond. We can’t protect you when you do that.”

“Do what? You know, never mind, it can wait,” he said before she could speak again. “Get the others up, meet in the main war room.”

“Shall I also wake the Ilythians?” she asked as she opened a slide in the wall with a wave of her hand. A compartment opened revealing a matte black sphere about the size of a baseball. 

Desmond grabbed it as he said, “Od at least, he can chose to wake whoever we wants.”

“Very well. Ezio isn’t pleased with you for the early wake up call.”

“Ezio can save his breath,” Desmond said finally dressed, and yanked his gloves on as he left the room over the matte black band around his wrist. “This is important.”

“Of course,” Demeter said, “Altair will be waiting for you there-

“Something wrong?”

“I didn’t contact him but I believe Cain knows as well.”

Desmond sighed, “Whatever. Just leave the mortals to sleep a bit more, yes I mean Lucy I-“ he didn’t know what to do still. He could be normal with her. But it was with difficulty.

“Very well,” Demeter said and flickered away.

Desmond arrived at the main war room a few minutes later. Altair was there already, sitting on one side of the table and Desmond wasn’t surprised Cain was there as well, sitting on the other side of the table. Altair was glaring at Cain, who couldn’t seem to care less. “Hi,” Desmond said when he entered.

“This better be good,” Altair grumbled.

“It is,” Desmond said. “What are you doing here?” he asked, narrow eyed, at Cain.

“I go where the excitement is of course,” he said with a sly grin. “Get better and maybe I won’t know everything. Though Altair’s had five hundred years and still can’t manage that,” he chuckled a little and Altair glared even harder at him.

“What do you know then old man?”

“About this? Only that we’re on a time table. So I hope the others _do_ hurry up.”

“And how do you know that?”

Cain looked at him patiently, “Because that was bomb,” and Desmond was thrown. Cain had seen that? Cain had _seen_ the mine and the light?

“What?”

“Like I said: get better,” Cain said.

Desmond squinted at him. He made a note to have a conversation with Cain. Maybe get _some_ answers out of the ancient. But it’d have to wait. The door opened, Hawk and Ezio both entered, Ezio’s hair was barely restrained and Hawk hadn’t even bothered with his.

“Please tell me there is a real reason for being awake so early,” Ezio groaned.

“Where’s Jake?” Desmond asked.

“I told him to stay,” Altair said, “Better question is where’s Clay?”

“Clay and Od will arrive momentarily,” Demeter said.

“Od bringing anyone?” Desmond asked.

“No. He isn’t.”

Desmond finally sat, except he jumped right back up because he couldn’t. He very short of paced, waiting for Clay and Od to make their appearance. Finally the proeathan did come, and Clay arrived after. Clay looked out of it, drunk or high or in some way inhibited.

“What’s going on?” Od asked, the only one but Desmond not sitting.

“I… think I had a vision,” Desmond said. Od eyed him the others just looked confused.

“A what? Like, a seeing the future sort of vision?” Ezio asked. “How? Is that even possible?”

“Yes,” Od said, “Minor Seeing is possible with training, as you all have seen. But true foresight is a very rare gift, one difficult to access and control. What did you see, Desmond?”

“I saw a distress signal,” Desmond said, “a light, blinking S.O.S. Then, I saw a mine, I don’t know where, then a bright light streaked from the sky and then-

“And then?” Altair asked.

“I woke up,” he said. He looked at Od, “Any ideas?”

Od did not look happy. “It was a very, very, large bomb,” he said.

Desmond glanced at Cain, “Yeah, figured that.”

“So you saw some mine get blown up, big deal,” Hawk said.

“A proeathan mine,” Od said, “right?” Desmond nodded.

“Humans work proeathan mines,” Altair said in a hard, level, tone. “What did you see at the mine?”

“Nothing,” Desmond said, “there was no one there but. It didn’t _feel_ abandoned. Right?” he looked at Cain. C’mon old man back me up here.

“It had been evacuated,” Cain said.

“And how’d you know?” Ezio asked.

“I know _many_ things,” Cain said, “Not all things I need to share if you’d prefer?”

“Don’t antagonize him Auditore,” Od said, “The wanderer will share what he wants,” Cain smiled meanly at the proeathan at that. “But he does not lie. Where was the mine?”

“I don’t know,” Cain said, “I only know what I see with my eyes.”

Od frowned deeply at that, “Hmm,” he said. “What terrain was the mine in?” he asked Desmond.

“Flatland,” he said, “which could be anywhere.”

“If we knew what they were mining we could narrow it down,” Hawk said. “Any ideas? Just throw some out,” he said it mainly to Od.

“Lead,” he said, “electrum, copper, platinum. Those are the main metals we mine for.”

“Right,” Hawk made the war room halo table light up and input some things. “Humans don’t mine for electrum much anymore. If they needed new electrum they’d have to start fresh. How big was this mine?” he asked Desmond.

“I don’t know, big?”

“Helpful.”

“I’d say a few hundred feet deep. It was more like a quarry than a mine though. They seemed more interested in getting at things laterally than depth wise.”

“Sounds like a salt mine,” Altair suddenly said. “You don’t need to go very deep for salt and it usually forms on flat areas. And with the seas much lower than they have been in thousands of years.”

“Sounds good,” Hawk said and the hologram of the globe he was playing with spun. “How’s important salt to your kind, Od?” he asked the Ilythian, not looking at him.

“About as important as it is to yours,” Od said.

“Stop,” Clay grabbed Hawk’s wrist. “There,” he tracked a finger across the table. “I also had a very strange vision. Though it was in the past,” as all his were. “I saw how they made Pieces of Eden. Sort of. They require a specific salt compound for it. You can’t just use _any_ salt.” The hologram of the globe zoomed in, becoming flat. “The Dead Sea,” he said, “it has the type of salt the proeathans need. I… I think they used to mine from the Caspian Sea area, but its been flooded since they went to sleep.”

“So you think that’s where the mine was?” Desmond asked.

“Its the best guess I have,” he said. “We won’t know for sure unless we send a scout,” he looked at Od.

“I’ll have one of my men go.”

“It could be too late,” Cain said.

“We’re not doing _anything_ on a hunch,” Altair growled. “For all we know it could be a trick.”

“But I saw-

“I don’t give a shit what you saw,” Altair cut Desmond off. “Od just said that something like this is rare and difficult to control. For all you know it was a lie. Not exactly out of the question seeing that proeathan things lie _all_ the time,” and Desmond had no come back for that. The Apple had lied to Altair for centuries, and clearly Altair was still mad about it. “Od will send a scout numia to investigate the Dead Sea if there is a mine.”

“I want to go with it,” Desmond said.

“Out of the question.”

“Altair-

“You’re not winning this one,” Altair said. “You’re not going. Don’t forget the last time you were in a numia. You broke it,” he reminded Desmond.

“That happened _once_.”

“You aren’t going,” Desmond scowled at him. Altair wasn’t impressed. “Whatever vision you did have, we’ll handle it as it comes. Od, how long will it take your men to get to the Dead Sea?”

“Half a day,” Od said, “possibly less. We’ll know for sure what you saw when it arrives.”

“Good. Then go wake them. If this is something we have to deal with I want it done as quickly as possible. We’re still training out officers so I’m _not_ looking forward to an assault,” he huffed and got up. “Everyone go back to sleep,” he looked pointedly at Desmond, “We’ll know what we need to do in a few hours.”

Desmond scowled hard at Altair, “Fine,” he said shortly, seeing he wasn’t going to win. “Keep me updated,” he told Od.

“Of course, now excuse me,” and he left.

“Well, I’m going back to sleep,” Ezio said with a yawn. “You two,” hr grabbed both Altair and Clay by the back of their collars, “You both need at least an hour of sleep, lets go,” and he dragged them out of the room. Hawk shut down the table before following, staring at his tablet as he walked.

That just left Desmond alone with Cain.


	12. Sampati

The ancient said nothing. He just sat where he’d been the entire time. Desmond stared back. “What are you?” Desmond asked. Cain had _seen_ the vision he’d had. He didn’t even know how. Hell he didn’t even know how _he_ had that vision. And if Cain had seen it who else had?

“What makes you think I’m anything but what I appear?”

“Because that’s too easy. You’re not that easy to figure out.”

Cain smiled a little, “Well you certainly have me there. Most people ask who I am though.”

“I don’t really give a shit,” Desmond said, “You’re on our side, for whatever reason and the AIs haven’t thrown you out or locked you up. Who you are is irrelevant. What are you? Cause you aren’t what you appear.”

“And how do I appear?” Cain asked.

“Human.”

“Well so do you,” Cain said. “So what’s that say about you golden boy?”

Desmond frowned, “I have a beginning. You don’t. You just showed up in Altair’s life one day.”

“What? You think I sprang from the earth fully formed? As flattering as that is I’m not _really_ a god. As close as any human’s ever gotten perhaps, but I had parents. They’re dead now of course, but I did have them.”

“And they were human?”

“As human as anyone else,” Cain said. Desmond frowned, there was a piece he was missing from that. He could tell in the way Cain seemed so satisfied with his answer. He was getting one over on Desmond but Desmond didn’t know how.

“You think you’re so smart don’t you,” Desmond growled.

“Not really,” Cain said, “mainly because I _know_ I’m so smart,” he grinned smugly. It was… so Altair Desmond actually had to pause a moment. He was fairly sure Altair had gotten that grin from Cain and that was a weird thought. Smug assholes; the both of them. How had they lived together for centuries? Maybe Altair hadn’t been able to stand Cain’s smugness. Which was the pot calling the kettle black maybe but if the shoe fit.

“Still haven’t answered the question.”

“I have. You’re just need to be better at figuring it out.”

“Like I need to be better at the visions thing. Which, how did you see?”

“It wasn’t like it was hard,” Cain said, “your mind is so messy, so disorganized. When you’re awake you can keep it together. But asleep? You’re completely transparent. I’m surprised the others haven’t dream shared with you even with as weak as their gifts are,” so Cain _did_ have a gift. Maybe not Eagle Vision, but then it wasn’t out of the question that different lines of humans couldn’t have different gifts. Right? 

“So you saw what I saw?”

“Yes,” Cain said.

“How?”

“How? How did you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well maybe it just happens. Maybe you wanted me to see.”

“Yes, of all the people I could have shared a vision with it would be you,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Of course. The oldest living thing on the planet, wouldn’t want his experience to weigh in on this thing I’ve never experienced before,” Cain was probably the most sarcastic dick head Desmond had ever met. And Desmond had met _himself_ so that was saying something. “Contrary to the lies Altair has fed you, and our last meeting; I am trying to help.”

“Really? Could have fooled me,” Desmond said.

“Sometimes too much knowledge is a burden.

“You just love being an enigma don’t you?” Desmond asked sarcastically. “Give only enough to keep everyone interested.”

Cain levered himself out of the chair and Desmond suddenly found himself face to face with the ancient. The last time he’d been this close had been in Central America and he’d been terrified. Now all Desmond did was blink. “I could say the same for you kid,” he said. “Grow up alone, then fell off the face of the earth in a way that probably made Altair _furious_ every time he lost you. You’ve got a clone that knows your every waking moment and is everything you are down to the mitochondria in your cells and yet you’re still something no one’s ever seen. Something no one knows how to deal with. Everyone just knows _enough_ to be interested,” Cain cocked his head to the side. “Whatever I am. Its nothing like what you are, kid.”

Desmond swallowed now, less confidant, “Any ideas on that one?”

“I was going to go with Death personally,” he shrugged, sort of frowning, but clearly he didn’t care. “Maybe we’ll figure it out when we get to Atlantis,” he smacked Desmond on the arm in an oddly familiar gesture. “I wonder if its going to matter though. You’re just one of the freaks now,” and then he walked passed Desmond.

“What do you want Cain?” Desmond asked as the ancient walked toward the door.

“I once saw a future. One different than the one Altair saw,” Cain said, pausing. “Dunno if it’ll still happen,” he glanced back at Desmond, “but I’d kinda like to see it anyway. Just to see how we get there. That’s always the fun part you know. Not the future you see finally arriving, but how you get there. Abel could learn a thing or two about the journey. So worried about the destination he gets lost.”

“He does,” Desmond said.

“Get some sleep _stadalla_ ,” Cain said, “Altair might be cautious, but we both know what’s waiting at the Dead Sea. We’ve been lucky with those plantations. But I don’t think that’s gonna hold out,” he nodded at Desmond and then left the war room.

Desmond thought about following him. But talking with Cain was like playing with fire. You could wave your fingers briefly through the flames and not get burned, but linger and that quickly changed. Cain wouldn’t tell him anymore anyway. He knew enough to know that. Cain only offered information he wanted to offer; even if it next to nothing anyway!

The guy was god damn insufferable. Somehow Desmond knew he’d done this to everyone else for six months and now he had to deal with it and he _still_ hadn’t answered a single one of Desmond’s questions. This was a running theme in his life it seemed, powerful entities not answering his questions. Cain just sidestepped it and gave him other things to think about instead. Bastard was _good_ at that and Desmond hadn’t even noticed till Cain was gone. Though live a thousand years and you probably get good at deterring people from asking about what you were, why you looked the same the last time they saw you. Made sense. Didn’t make it any less infuriating though.

“Demeter,” Desmond said.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“Do you have any DNA on Cain?”

“No,” she said slowly. “Would you like me to acquire some?”

Desmond sighed, “No,” he admitted. He was just being childish and stupid. “I’m going to train some before breakfast. Inform me when Od’s scout has left, and when the others wake up.”

“Of course Desmond.”

“And… let me know when Lucy leaves her room.”

“Of course, Desmond,” Demeter said.

“Thanks,” and Desmond left the war room to go train, too wired from the dream to sleep.

 


	13. Hræsvelgr

Desmond didn’t come here often. He didn’t really have a reason to honestly. Well, other than to see Lucy at least. None of the children playing, tumbling, watching something on a large monitor, or napping, paid any mind to Desmond when he entered the big, partitioned, room where they all lived. Low walls separated each of the play areas, low enough for adults to see over but not the children. 

Honestly Desmond was here to find Lucy. He just… wanted to see her. Not seeing her was an ache in his chest that was just oddly painful. It was horrible but when she wasn’t around she was nearly all he could think about. But all he wanted was for her to be happy. If she was happy he didn’t care. Sometimes he hated how much he still loved her. He figured she’d be here since there was no training today. Since Od had sent out that scout they were going into preparation mode, like when they took a plantation. The army was gearing up, getting ready, for the signal to move out. But Desmond knew he’d find Lucy in here, because she wasn’t with the others. They’d told him she came in at the last moment. Everyone always stared at her, or wanted to touch her, even just her hand or arm or shoulder; for good luck.

What an awful existence, to shut yourself away from the people who put hope in you. It was why Desmond kept his anonymity. He didn’t want to be a symbol. He didn’t want to become what Lucy had been turned into.

He found her in one of the partitioned rooms, sitting on a low stool, reading to a collection of the children who all looked up at her with wide eyes. She looked up when he entered. “Desmond,” she said in greetings.

“Hey, don’t mind me. I’m not even here,” he grinned and just leaned against the wall. She turned away from him and kept reading. Here she looked so at ease, happy even.

A cold hand circled his heart. Three and a half years left. That was the remaining time Lucy had left and Desmond was doing his _damnedest_ not to think about it. Three years and then she’d just be _gone_. It made his stomach turn in a bad way. He didn’t move, didn’t go over to her like he wanted to. He just stood there and watched, and listened. He felt better seeing her, not feeling so anxious, or twitchy. It almost felt like something was wrong with him, when he didn’t see her he was a wreck and when he did see her… he was also a wreck. Both were pain but he couldn’t figure out which one hurt more.

Eventually he just had to leave. He couldn’t stay near her without depressing himself. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, or bother her, or seem to be stalking her.

Desmond walked around the big room, seeing what the children were doing, seeing if it was interesting. A few looked up at him silently, with odd expressions that even they didn’t seem to understand, and others smiles and waved at him, having seen him with Lucy before. Others just gave him a passing look but most didn’t even look up. He was headed back to the door, passing by Lucy’s room where she was still reading, when he came across Cain, of all people, helping a group of children build an impressive castle out of blocks.

Cain noticed him instantly, and he got that fucking bullshit look on his face that Altair had that made you want to punch him in the fucking mouth. “Stop that,” Desmond said.

“I didn’t say anything,” was all Cain said.

“You’re lucky there are kids here, or I’d have some choice words for you.”

“Yeah?” Cain asked and then was on his feet in a surge of motion that seemed like he’d been standing this entire time. He stepped around the castle. “What are you doing here, Desmond? Shouldn’t you be with the others? Plotting the assault, gearing up?”

“I don’t need to,” Desmond said.

“Right, not like any of the proeathan weapons or armor will work for you,” Cain sneered.

“Literally fuck off,” Desmond said.

“Then why’d you stop?” and Desmond didn’t have an answer to that. “What do you want?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Desmond said shortly.

“Maybe,” Cain shrugged, “Doesn’t change the question. I mean,” he paused a second, “has anyone ever asked what you want?” Desmond’s face dropped. “Careful kid, you’re starting to look like Abel,” Cain smirked.

“Get fucked Cain.”

“Sorry, terribly boring, much more interesting when you’re asexual.”

“What- I… _what?_ ” Desmond didn’t know how to take that.

“And find other come backs than lame ones about sticking your dick into something. Its incredibly juvenile and fantastically boring,” Cain said simply.

Desmond blinked at him, “What?”

“What?” Cain asked right back, “You deaf now? Should I tell Altair you broke again?”

“What- I mean, no,” Desmond said.

“Oh good.”

“You are literally the most frustrating person I have ever met, and I _lived_ through Altair and Ezio,” Desmond said.

“Well then we’re even,” Cain said, “because you confuse me.” Well that was a hit out to far left field. What? Desmond stopped himself before that got out of his mouth so Cain didn’t look amused by him. “What are you? What do you want?” Cain asked him.

“I want to win,” Desmond said.

“Boring. Better answer,” Cain said.

“Uh-

“What do you _want_ ,” Cain said and poked his chest, right on the sternum. “Your little song bird isn’t an option either.” Song bird? Oh, he meant Lucy. “What does the most valuable man in history want?”

Desmond hesitated. Cain wasn’t going to take one of his bullshit, canned, answers he gave the others. He wanted to protect people, or beat the proeathans, or fix this mess. He knew Cain didn’t give a shit about any of that. Those weren’t the sort of answers he was looking for because they were about the end. Cain didn’t care about the end. He was interested in the middle, and probably to some extent the beginning. But not the end.

“You told me to get better,” Desmond said, looking Cain straight in his pale blue eyes. “Better at _what_?”

“You know the answer to that,” Cain said.

“The whole seeing and dream sharing bullshit,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t do that till now.”

“Or maybe you weren’t looking.”

Desmond paused, “Or maybe they wanted me to see?”

“That too,” Cain said.

Desmond took a moment, “I want you to tell me about dream sharing,” he said.

Cain grinned. “Now that, kid,” and he clapped Desmond on the shoulder, “was a good answer.”


	14. The Emperor

If Altair knew he’d willingly gone off alone with Cain he’d literally flip his shit so hard he’d probably hurt himself. But Cain wasn’t dangerous. Desmond knew that. Cain, for all the bullshit Altair spouted, had never hurt Desmond. Sure maybe a little, momentary, ache, but not bruises that lasted for days, or cuts that criss crossed parts of his body. No, his ancestors had done that to him. Compared to them Cain was practically harmless. The only person Cain had ever wanted to hurt was Altair. Everyone else was just in the way, and if you were in Cain’s way he’d just plow through you.

Desmond felt reasonably safe around Cain.

They’d left the nursery, Cain just beckoning and Desmond followed him into the lift. He leaned against the back wall as Cain tapped out where in Demeter he wanted to go. Desmond said nothing. He didn’t know Cain, but he knew immortals. They always had a plan, had an angle, and Cain wouldn’t talk or answer any questions till he was good and ready.

“How many times has this happened?” Cain asked, turning around to look at him.

“The seeing thing? Never, just this once,” Desmond said, arms crossed across his chest.

“Have the AI REM interfaced with you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you move when they do?”

“Yes.”

“How often does this happen?”

Desmond shrugged, “They did it a few times before the world went to shit, and then while I was away they gave me updates once a week or so in my sleep. So I knew I was going the right direction, since those in their cores were unable.”

Cain appraised him a moment, “REM interfacing is forced dreamsharing,” Cain said and Desmond felt the lift starting to slow. “The AI, as living, could all probably dreamshare, meaning they had the ability in death. It isn’t something that can be learned like regular _sikaz_ skills, you are either born with it, or you’re not,” the lift glided to a stop and Cain stepped out.

“What’s _sikaz_?” Desmond asked, it sounded vaguely proeathan but not Ilythian.

“A proeathan word, it describes, in general, the abilities of the sixth sense. Telekinesis, Seeing, intuition, mind reading-

“Woah wait you can read minds,” Desmond interrupted, walking beside Cain.

“Its even rarer than Seeing, and like it you must be born with it. I’ve only heard of a handful of proeathans who could do it, and it was always imperfect. The mind is not linear, there is no such thing as linear mind reading like in books where you hear someone’s thoughts. Its a nearly useless skill because everyone’s mind works differently.”

“Can you read minds? Also how do you know that?”

“I can’t. But I knew someone who did.”

Desmond paused and they stopped walking, “You know I really wanna ask about that but I know you won’t answer.”

Cain just grinned, “You’re right,” he said. “And here we are.”

Desmond looked up a bit, “This is Venus,” he said. Venus had been pretty heavily guarded by the Adjatevs when Desmond had shown up, but the Ilythians had taken care of the forces there. They’d managed to get in, open the vault and loot the storehouse of thousands of useful artifacts and leave before the Adjatevs had sent backup. Everything had been transferred to one of the Ilythians large numia and like Artemis had copied herself into the numia so effectively the numia _was_ Venus. Along with goodies from Artemis it’d been sitting down in the hanger since the Ilythians had arrived.

“Yes. Open her up.”

“Venus,” Desmond called.

The hologram appeared in the shape of Altair, only he looked different. Younger, somehow, even though he still only looked in his late twenties, but he didn’t have the lines on his forehead or mouth like he did now. “Hello,” she said with Altair’s voice.

“Open the numia, we need to get in.”

“Of course,” she said and the door opened above and a gangway came down. “What do you need?” she asked as they walked up the gangway.

“I don’t know, ask him,” Desmond said, jerking his thumb back to indicate Cain.

“I don’t know what you call it. I’ll know it when I see it,” was all Cain said when they got up into the numia. “Though an… oh gods what do you call it in this time?” he asked himself softly. “Apple! Right, Apple, one of those would be nice.”

Desmond eyed Cain warily at that even as Venus said, “Of course.” A light appeared over one of the racks deep inside Venus’ hold, “I’ve marked their placement for your connivence.”

“Man,” Cain said slowly, “Too bad Abel is this helpful, eh Desmond?” Cain asked Desmond and it took Desmond a solid minute to reason Cain had just _made a joke_. Not that it was a bad joke. He just couldn’t even think about Cain ever _joking_ about anything. He was always Mr. Cool and Serious and Desmond had abruptly come to terms with the fact that Cain was old as hell, had probably had kids, and told horrible dad jokes at _some point_ in his life. And that meant Altair and Ezio probably had too. Desmond suddenly didn’t know what was real anymore. “You coming?” Cain called from in between Venus’ aisles.

“Yeah,” Desmond called back weakly before following after Cain. He was silent for a few minutes as Cain looked for whatever he was looking for, before he couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, Cain,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“You ever have kids? I mean I know you said you were asexual but-

“But?” Cain asked and damn guy was amused by his stumbling. Asshole.

“Were you always?”

Cain chuckled a little, “I believe the saying is; once upon a time,” he didn’t seem sad though like when the others talked about their wives or kids or their lives before this century. “I was a father to _many_ children,” he admitted, “maybe not as many as some people I knew, but for your time it was many.”

“Like _how_ many?”

Cain didn’t answer right away. “More than twelve, less than twenty. I don’t remember them all.”

Desmond stared at him, “Seriously? You don’t remember?”

Cain looked at him, “I am _unimaginably_ old,” he said, “old enough that humans have a hard time understanding that distance of time. I remember a lot, but I can’t remember everything.”

“Seems like it,” Desmond grumbled as Cain went back to looking, and he followed behind grudgingly, nearly dragging his feet.

“I remember things that are important. My children, not so much. They’re all dead now, and my descendants probably are too. I have no time for the dead.”

“Harsh.”

“You’d think so. But the past is over. The future will come as it does, the only thing that matters is the present, and at best, your plan for the next three days.”

“Where’d you get that sort of logic?”

“Being locked in a box for over a hundred years,” and that shut Desmond right up. They walked a bit more then Cain stopped, “Ah, here it is,” and he opened a drawer and pulled out a canister.

“What is that?” Desmond asked.

“You’ll see,” was all Cain said and then went to towards the marker Venus had placed where there was a large trunk that he popped open and there were a few dozen Apples sitting in something similar to an egg carton, on top of each other in neat order. “Well,” Cain said, “that’s quite a lot of them.”

“We took all of them,” Desmond said, “they’re too dangerous to normal people.”

“They can be,” and Cain picked one up, tossed it at Desmond thoughtlessly, took another one and that also got thrown to Desmond who nearly fumbled it. He took a third one for himself.

“So what are we going to do with these?” Desmond asked.

“Can you scry?” Cain answered his question with a question and headed for the exit.

“Uh, I did once with Altair’s help,” he said.

“It’ll be like that,” was Cain’s answer and they left Venus.

“You haven’t told me anything,” Desmond said irritably.

“Knowing is a burden,” Cain said.

“What bullshit is that,” Desmond snapped.

Cain looked at him, “You just say that because you know _nothing_ ,” and Desmond was taken aback. They entered the lift and Cain keyed in their next destination. “Altair knows. He’s old enough to understand and know actual secrets and mysteries in the world. Knowing can be a burden. Clay knows _some_ , but he doesn’t know _enough_ , he knows pieces, bits and half truths and some lies but he doesn’t _know_. It made him hate you if I’m not mistaken,” he said to Desmond.

“I straightened it out, he doesn’t hate me.”

“He didn’t know why he hated you though. Because you raised Atlantis, big deal,” he couldn’t see Cain roll his eyes but he could hear it.

“I’d say it is.”

“But he doesn’t know _why_ he cares so much,” Cain said, “What did excuse did he give for his hatred?”

“That I was the antichrist.”

Cain seemed amused. “Death maybe, but the _stadalla_ is nothing but.”

“Hey that isn’t-

“I know,” Cain said, “the middle. But for there to be a middle there must be a beginning, a middle, and an end, and to start something new you need an end.” He looked over at Desmond, “You are an end,” he said, “maybe that’s why you annoy me so much.”

“ _Me_ , annoy _you_? Do you not know how fucking frustrating you are?”

“I chose to be,” Cain said.

“You fucker,” Desmond grumbled. Cain knew exactly what he was doing and that was the most infuriating thing ever. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“No wonder Altair hates you.”

“Which is odd since he picked up this particular habit from me,” the lift stopped, they got off.

“Where are we going?” Cain didn’t answer. “Cain.”

“Here,” and the door irised open. Like most of the rooms in Demeter it was a green house with lush foliage. This one was a greenhouse of grass, which was weird. Samples of grass was arranged in clumps all and it was so weird to think Demeter kept _grass_ to protect. “I like this garden,” Cain said and sat on a piece of the turf. He put the Apple in front of him and Desmond sat across from him. “Put them on either side of your knees,” Cain directed him and Desmond crossed his legs and did so.

“You going to tell me what this has to do with dreamsharing?” Desmond asked.

“You don’t know how to dreamshare on your own, someone forces you into it. From the sound of it usually an AI interfaces with you, triggering your natural ability. Because AI aren’t actual conciouses, they exist in a near constant state of half sleeping, half waking, able to access the parts of their brains they could only have done, while alive, when awake or asleep. Thus they can dreamshare at any time.”

“Can I do that?”

“No,” Cain said, “dreamsharing is only achievable when your conscious mind is at rest. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. _Sikaz_ is odd like that, sometimes you can’t explain _why_ they work the way they do, only that they do.”

“Like math,” Desmond said.

“Exactly,” Cain said. He took the capsule, which was about as big as a thermos, and unscrewed it it, popping it in half. “Do you know what an Apple is?”

“Uh—?”

Cain sighed a little, “You literally know nothing,” he said. “Before the fall of the proeathans there were people like you,” he was looking Desmond dead in the eye, completely serious, “or maybe, more like people like Lucy. The proeathans called them angels, well, that would be the translation, every language had a different name, but you get the idea. They were gifted in ways like the proeathans, but different. The proeathans owned them, and trained their slaves in the ways they’d been trained, crippling whatever natural gift they had into something the proeathans understood. They were runaway hunters, or were brought around when there was an uprising, they’d infiltrate the uprising, because they were human, and kill the leaders. It was amazingly successful for centuries before the humans caught on.

“When the human was near death, old age, too hurt or weak to continue to live, the proeathans would do to them what they did to the AI,” Cain picked up the Apple in front of him and Desmond stared at him. “An Apple is alive. It has wants, and desires and most are very, _very_ , angry and demand destruction, which is why those without the right sort of blood usually go mad. All smart proeathan tools contain one of these ancient people, slaves even after death. Most are wretched and will fight every chance they can, make your life difficult, drive you insane, make you blood thirsty or delusional, show you illusions of what you most desire. There are reasons you modern humans call them Pieces of Eden; they are temptation given form. They show you what you want, but like Eve’s apple, they will only lead to ruin.

“The entity within these vessels were incredibly powerful psychics as far as humans went,” Cain continued, “and every single one of them was a dreamwalker. I heard stories once of entire barracks of angels sleeping for days at a time, dreamsharing, sometimes with angels across continents.”

“What about?” Desmond heard himself ask.

Cain smiled a little, “The proeathans always asked. It wasn’t until the end that the angels answered. They dreamed of a world were there were no more proeathans. It made them scared. Dozens of angels were culled, forced into vessels, but hundreds escaped. Eve was the one who formed them together again, and they started to use the skills they’d been given to attack the proeathans.”

“Okay maybe stupid question; but what about Adam?”

“The way I heard it Adam was captured during a fight, the proeathans sent him back to Eve in a vessel.” Desmond paled a little. “She then used that vessel to end the war-

“Not start it?”

“The war had existed in small scale for centuries. Unhappy humans rising up, causing noise. The proeathans sent their pets, it was stopped, probably most of those humans were killed. But what Eve did was different. She crippled the proeathans.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Cain said. “I only know the stories.”

“You mean you weren’t there?” Desmond asked sarcastically.

Cain smirked, “I’m not that old.”

“You’d like us to think you are.”

“I’m not that old,” he said again. “You asked what this has to do with dreamsharing,” Cain put the Apple down again. “This is how you learn,” and he picked up the canister and upended it into his palm. A clear, glass-like, sphere plopped onto his palm. He placed that between them and then he put his hand on the Apple again, the Apple began to glow.

“I have a question,” Desmond said.

“Yes?”

“If these things hate the proeathans, why do they react to them?”

“They don’t,” Cain said, “Proeathans don’t use Apples. They were tools of angels.”

“But they react to my proeathan blood.”

“No,” Cain said, “They react to your abilities. The vessels know themselves, and know when one who uses them is like them. A proeathan can force a vessel to obey, but usually they rebel. They were never meant for proeathans.”

“But I’m not an angel,” Desmond said.

“No,” Cain said, “you’re not. But you’re close enough. You’re a mix, human, and proeathan, and while most modern humans don’t birth people like angels anymore, the mix between the two species is enough to _mimic_ an angel. People with too much proeathan blood can’t use Pieces of Eden; but humans can. Now, are you ready to dreamwalk?”

“I mean… I guess?”

“Do you hear the singing?” Cain asked, the Apple glowed brighter and brighter till it hurt to look at. And when Desmond paid attention he noticed, yes, he did, a jumble of notes he’d been ignoring till now, but now sounded so clear.

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Focus on the singing,” Cain said, “and don’t throw up.”

“Don’t what?” and then the snap of nausea overwhelmed him like when Altair had taught him to scry years ago. Desmond jumped to his feet, walked off, doubled over, and vomited. The song stopped and Desmond felt sick and gross and dizzy.

“I said don’t throw up.” Desmond just raised his hand towards Cain with the middle finger up. “I assume that’s some sort of disrespectful sign language?”

“Fuck you,” Desmond said and spit out the remaining bile in the back of his throat.

“I thought we agreed you’d come up with better insults than ones involving your penis,” Cain said.

“Fuck. Off,” Desmond growled. He glanced at Cain long enough to see him roll his eyes. “Euhg,” he spit again.

“Would you like some water?” Demeter suddenly asked.

“Yes, please Demeter that would be fantastic,” Desmond said and in the track that separated two patches of, apparently, different grass a little stand rose up with a round bottle on it. Desmond went over to it, opened it and sipped, rinsed his mouth, spit, and then drank.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Cain said.

“Fuck you- Hey!” he cried when Cain lobbed the canister at him and hit him in the chest. “What the hell, Cain?” he demanded.

“Every time you say that I’m going to throw something at you,” Cain said. “Be better,” he said seriously. “You’re the savior of the world, _act like it_.”

“Fuck off, man- Stop that!” he yelled when Cain threw the other half of the canister and this time hit Desmond in the chin.

“Be _better_ ,” Cain said, looking at Desmond with intense eyes. “Now get back over here,” he ordered and Desmond went, grumbling as he did so, and sat positioning the Apples next to his knees again. “This time don’t throw up.”

“Nothing left to throw up.”

“Good,” and then the Apple started to glow again. The singing came, faster this time, and Desmond felt the wave of nausea. Like with the scrying though Desmond pushed through, didn’t vomit. And then he was in the white room with Cain; only they weren’t alone.

 


	15. Mihirungs

Desmond looked around, there were three people standing with them, all shorter than him and had shaved heads, though they couldn’t have looked more different. One was like a stump, she was huge and wide, with massive arms and shoulders. One of the men was rail thin with skin so tight they looked like a skeleton covered in skin. And the last man was lean and muscular with a face like a shark. Desmond looked at them and while he could understand their shapes he couldn’t recall, even while looking directly at them, details of what they looked like. The color of their eyes, the color of their skin or hair, or if they wore clothes. He just got the _sense_ of them.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” the woman whispered and it was a tickle in Desmond’s ear, and so succulent Desmond wanted to drink it. He oddly felt suddenly aroused and it was the strangest thing.

“The _stadalla_ came,” Cain said and Desmond started when suddenly the three figured appeared on all sides, looking up at him but he couldn’t decide if they were angry or not. All he knew was that they stared at him with intelligent eyes, ones like birds of prey, hard and sharp and yet reptilian. It made Desmond swallow.

“What are you doing here?” the skeletal man said, his breath hot on Desmond’s face and smelled rancid and Desmond felt, of all things, hungry. He was suddenly famished and wanted to leave, go eat.

“Who are you?” the last man said and as one the three turned and stared at Cain.

“Cain,” he said.

They took a step back, away from Desmond, and Cain. “A Cain; how _quaint_ ,” the skeletal man said, sneering.

“OF COURSE YOU ARE,” the woman said, still whispering sultrily. “WHAT DO YOU WANT? ONLY DEMONS DWELL HERE.”

“The _stadalla_ needs training,” Cain said, and Desmond felt the weight of three sets of eyes on him when they looked at him.

“He is _no angel_ ,” the shark-faced man hissed, “he is proeathan made. Don’t think we’ll help something proeathan ever again-

“NOT AFTER WHAT THEY DID TO US.”

“Years of devoted servitude,” the skeletal man said.

“And for what?”

“FOR THEM TO DESTROY US?”

“To turn us into demons?” the shark-faced man said.

“WE THINK NOT.”

Cain huffed, “Uh,” Desmond looked at Cain, “what?”

“Don’t be difficult with me. You know if you don’t do it he can just make you. He’s angelic enough.”

“Fool!” the skeletal man cried.

“Shut up,” Cain said and they seemed taken aback. “You’re angry, we know. We also don’t care. The _stadalla_ needs help learning to dreamshare. You know proeathans can’t do that.”

They turned and looked at Desmond who swallowed and leaned back a little, “Uh…” There was a pregnant silence, “Someone wanna fill me in here?”

“These are the angels the proeathans locked inside these vessels. But like most angelic vessels, they’re being difficult without being pushed into something.”

“So… what? I have to tell them to do it?”

“They cannot disobey-

“Lies,” the woman shrieked.

“Shut up,” Desmond snapped and she abruptly fell silent. “Fuck,” he rubbed his forehead. “I need to learn to dreamshare, the proeathans are projecting futures into my mind and I don’t know if they’re real or not. I need to be able to control it.”

The angels looked between each other and said nothing, though Desmond recognized it as the same quiet the AIs took when they spoke amongst each other. “WE’LL HELP YOU,” the woman whispered.

“Good-

“On a condition,” the skeleton said.

Desmond sighed, “Okay, _what_?”

“When we are done, you will destroy us,” shark-face said.

“Seriously?”

“ETERNAL LIFE IS ETERNAL SUFFERING _,_ ” the woman said, “WE HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH. DESTROY US.”

“Well… I mean okay I guess,” Desmond said.

“Then you have our help, _stadalla_ ,” shark-face said.

“Okay, so uh… what do I call you I guess?” he said awkwardly.

“I AM LUSS,” the woman said.

“Hegrar,” the skeleton said.

“Pind,” shark face said.

“And I’m Desmond.”

They turned to Cain, “You have not given us your name yet, _Cain_ ,” Pind sneered.

Cain just grinned a cheeky grin, “Cain is fine.”

“YOU REMIND ME OF DEST. HE WAS A SMUG BASTARD TOO.”

“I aim to misbehave,” Cain said and Desmond realized that was an Altair line. Well that was weird.

“Do you scry, _stadalla_?” Hegrar asked.

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“And you future see?”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly.

The three looked between each other, “This will be easier than we anticipated,” and he didn’t like how they were grinning at him.

—

When Desmond could feel his body again he felt strange, awake and asleep at the same time and yet ready to go do sprints. The singing he’d always heard now didn’t sound like singing; but rather screaming.

Opposite him Cain was opening his eyes slowly and picked up the crystal sphere. “Not bad for your first time,” he said.

“I… I don’t remember any of it,” Desmond said, looking around, feeling confused.

“It will return to you, give it time. Something like this is always a stress for the mind, even for a psychic like you-

“Woah woah, back up. _Psychic_?”

“Well… of course?”

“You mean like those people who can like feel spirits and shit- Fuck’s sake Cain! Knock it- HEY!” Cain first threw the sphere at him and then the Apple. Both hit him in the chest and the Apple landed right on his crotch. That kinda hurt.

“Be better,” Cain said.

“Fu-“ Desmond held his tongue because Cain was out of shit to throw, but he wouldn’t put it past Cain to strike him. Rebel Desmond might be he also knew how negative reinforcement worked. “Step off,” he growled and Cain just gave him a pleasant look. Okay, no smacks for that one.

“And yes, in a sense I guess,” Cain said. “The ones you’re speaking of are empaths, a type of psychic. But you are not that type.”

“Man when you say it like that I sound like one of the freaking X-men,” Cain just looked confused, “a mutant with super powers.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you are,” Cain said. “A genetic hiccup. Now get up,” he got to his feet effortlessly. “What do you remember?”

“I remember meeting the three of them,” Desmond said slowly. “Also what the hell they called themselves demons?” Cain shrugged. “You _did not_ just shrug at me.”

“I don’t know. I would assume that is where the idea came from. Angels, divine warriors sent from some higher power to kill the rebels. Then they rebelled, and when they did they Fell in battle or at the hands of that higher power, and became demons. Modern mythology is _filled_ with stories that were told since the end of the war, changing until they are their modern embodiments.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well all the norse gods are proeathans,” Cain said simply, “Odin was Ilythian.”

“Wait… wait _what_?”

“You can ask Od when you see him. But I believe Demeter has news for us?”

“Yes,” Demeter said, “Od’s scout has arrived at the mine. You’re needed in the command center, Desmond.”

“Right, on my way,” and he started off, and then looked back at Cain who wasn’t following. “You coming?”

“I know what will happen,” Cain said.

“How?”

“Because you will make hard choices,” Cain said.

“You said that was a bomb.”

“It is.”

“What hard choice do you think I’ll make?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Did you see it in the future?”

“No,” Cain said.

“Then how do you know?”

“Because while we were with the angels you already decided, that the right choice, was the hard choice. I don’t need to go. I know what you’ll say.”

Desmond frowned, “You’re really fucking weird.”

Cain smiled a little, “You’re already better. Continue to make good choices, Desmond.”

“Riiiiight. See you Cain.”

“Don’t let Altair tell you what to do,” he called after Desmond as he left the garden.

—

The command room that had been designated grounds for both Ilythians and humans was filled with people. Desmond entered to most people looking at a screen of video being sent back to them from the numia.

“Ah, there you are,” Altair said when he saw Desmond and pulled him to where the others were. “Where were you?”

“Training,” was all he said. 

“Well this is it,” Altair said.

He looked at the screen. It was the mine, only now it was filled with people, humans. Toiling in the hot sun, carving out salt for the proeathans. Great machines were used to bring the rock up from the quarry levels, but all the mining was being done on a personal level with powered hammers and jacks. The people, a mix of colored skin, were powdered white from the dust sticking to their skin.

“We know how many people there are in there?”

“Few hundred, not as many as the plantations. Much of the digging is automated, or just needs a guiding hand on the machines,” Hawk said.

“This isn’t like what I saw,” Desmond said, eyes darting around the screen. “The mine… that _is_ the mine I saw but, its full. The one I saw was empty.”

“Maybe we took the people away,” Jake said, “before it happened. With our numbers we could easily overpower the proeathans there.”

Desmond frowned, it felt wrong. Something in his gut felt so utterly _wrong_ about this situation. “So, we should go, right?” Ezio asked.

“Where’s Od?” Desmond asked.

“Over there,” Altair pointed to Od and some Ilythians, looking at a monitor in front of them. He went over to them

“ _Ah, Desmond, you’re here_ ,” Od said in Ilythian.

“Can you numia track high energy signatures?”

“ _Within a radius. Why?_ ”

“I want them to see if they can pin point where that bomb might be,” Desmond said.

Od frowned but relayed the information to his scouts. As he was doing so the picture suddenly cut out. “ _Someone get comms back!”_ Od cried, ordering his men into action. “ _What happened?_ ”

“ _We lost everything_ ,” one of the Ilythian techs said. “ _Video, comms. Its dead.”_

 _“No! Get it back, now!”_ Od yelled, “ _We do not just_ lose _part of our nation to Adjatev_ keens _.”_

 _“We’re trying, Ando,”_ another tech said.

Minutes ticked by, then, all at once the big screen lit up again. This time the camera was on the ground, and the image flickering. They could see some smoke and after a second garbled audio cut it. Desmond, or any of the humans, didn’t know what they were saying. The image continued to cut in and out and finally died again.

“ _The scouts have been compromised, Ando_.”

“ _To the holes with those Adjatevs_ ,” Od growled, showing a rare moment of anger.  He looked at Desmond “ _We need to recover our fallen men and free those humans.”_ Desmond looked at Od but wasn’t seeing him. He was suddenly remembering. The angels had shown him what that vision had been, before proeathan tampering. There was no bomb. “ _Desmond_ ,” Od barked his name.

“Its a trap,” Desmond said and Cain’s words rushed to him. He’d make the right choice, but it wouldn’t be an easy one.

“ _What_?” Od asked.

“This is all a trap,” he said and then turned back around and looked at his ancestors, “There is no bomb,” he said.

“What?” now it was their turn.

“My vision was wrong,” he felt like he was dreaming, a waking dream. No, no, not dreaming, dreamsharing. Everything looked so crisp and clear and in focus and things fell into place in the most horrible way.

“Then what was it?” Jake asked.

“A lure, to get us to go to the quarry, free the humans.”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” Shaun said.

“No… no you don’t understand,” and he smiled a macabre smile. He looked back at Od, “I know about angels,” he said. Od looked down somewhat shamefully. “And this is a tactic they used before.”

“It could be,” Od said.

“Wait, what? What angels? Desmond what are you talking about?”

“Angels were humans the proeathans trained to quell uprisings. They’d infiltrate the rebellion and kill the leaders, cut off all the heads of the weed. They’re doing it now.”

“You can’t know that. You also can’t know they won’t blow that place up if we _don’t_ go,” Jake said.

“ _And my men-_

“Your men are already dead, Od. You know that,” Desmond said somberly.

“So what’s this mean?” Altair asked slowly.

“We aren’t going,” Desmond said.

“Desmond we’ve already got everyone ready.”

“We aren’t going,” Desmond said again, firmer this time.

“But those people could die,” Ezio said.

“Then they will die,” and there was a stunned silence to his words.

“You can’t be serious,” Shaun said, “there aren’t enough of us left. We can’t afford those loses.”

“We can,” Desmond said, “we will. No one is leaving Demeter, for anything. The Adjatevs think we’ll fall into a trap by sending me visions. I’m calling their bluff.”

“Desmond you can’t-

“I am,” Desmond said, “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

“ _Desmond this is unreasonable,_ ” Od said.

“You’re condemning those people to death,” Shaun snapped.

“Then they will die,” Desmond said and hated Cain for being right. It wasn’t an easy decision, or one he wanted to make, but in the end; it was the right one. He hated it but it was the right decision.

The others stared at him, some of them seemed stunned, a few looked confused. “What happened to you?” Altair asked softly.

“I told you,” Desmond said firmly, “I’m not that kid I was six months ago. I’m different.”

“You’re out of control.”

“No,” Desmond said, “I’m _in_ control,” and he felt his anger licking at his fingertips. So easy. Anger was easy. Control it, don’t let it control you. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“I’ve killed me who’ve said things like that,” Ezio said.

Desmond lifted his arms to his side and prepared himself to go into the sixth sense, “Then try,” he said. None of them moved. He lowered his arms. “I don’t like making this decision, but it is my decision. Whatever happens at that quarry is out of our hands now. I can’t risk the Adjatevs finding Demeter with a plant in the form of a human we might rescue.”

“So you’ll sacrifice innocents?” Jake demanded, unlike Desmond he was _furious_.

“I’m why six billion people are dead, Jacob,” and Jake flinched, “I can handle a few hundred more without losing anymore sleep than I already do.”

“Fuck you then,” and Jake stormed out, knowing he wasn’t going to win.

“You’re really doing this?” Altair asked.

“I am. Demeter,” he added, “Make sure no one leaves the ark. I don’t want any mistakes.”

“Of course,” Demeter said in her patient, measured, tone.

Desmond sighed and looked down, “I’m sorry, really. But this is the way it is. Tell your men to stand down, there’s no assault now,” and he headed for the door. The others stepped out of his way and he didn’t miss how none of them wanted to touch him. He lowered his head as he left.

Cain didn’t seem surprised when he showed up back at the grass garden. “How’d it go?” Cain asked.

Desmond said nothing, he just sat and looked at Cain, “I need to get better.” Cain just nodded and handed him two of the Apples.


	16. Bird of Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is so weird  
> on two websites this story has a loyal following and I get like 20 reviews each chapter  
> and then here I barely have 1k views

Lucy was waiting for him where they usually practiced and Desmond felt like a worn out noodle. He hadn’t slept last night, afraid of what would be in his dreams. He could still see the angels when he closed his eyes too, with their unblinking eyes, and their voices that echoed across the white room. He had more control now, but nothing that could stop some proeathan from coming in and rearranging his dreams.

“Hey,” she said when she saw him and he sat on the ground with a grunt. “Everyone’s talking about yesterday.”

He eyed her, “And how do you know? You don’t talk to anyone.”

She gave him an unamused look, “I talk to people thanks. I talk to Jake, I talk to Shaun and Rebecca-

“I know I know I was teasing, relax,” Desmond said.

“Oh,” and she looked chastened she’d reacted so strongly, though he was sure sometimes they did bring it up, just like him ‘you never talk to anyone’.

“What are they saying?” Desmond asked.

“The normal people were told it was a false alarm, the scout reported the mine as being empty.”

“Yeah?” Meaning everyone at the command center had been told not to talk, he wondered how long that would last.

“Shaun thinks your out of control,” she said.

“Shaun doesn’t know anything,” he said.

“You could have saved those people.” Desmond opened his mouth to argue, not that she was wrong, they could have, “But it was trap?” After a second he nodded. “You made the right choice,” she said.

“Wow really? Everyone gave me the cold shoulder when I did and I figured you would most of all.”

Her brow furrowed, “Why would you think that?”

“I dunno the whole ‘Angel of the Lake’ thing you got going on,” Desmond said with a heavy dose of sarcastic mystysism that made Lucy giggle. Man that was so cute.

“Not a title I chose,” she said. “They just… gave it to me, along with their preconcieved bullshit about how I have to be.”

“Yeah, I know how that is,” Desmond said and leaned back on his elbows.

“You had to make a shitty decision to let whatever might happen to those people at the mine happen.”

“I probably condemed those people to die,” Desmond said.

“Sometimes the innocent have to die for the greater good,” she said and was surprised when she didn’t look away from him or flinch when she said it. Before she always had, even before what had happened at Rome. She couldn’t separate herself from that girl his father had basically left in the Abstergo tower, alone, until someone found out about her and killed her. Or the girl who felt the guilt of all the people she’d watched and let suffer in the Animus. Clay’s death, what had happened to Daniel (even though she hadn’t been involved), all the Subjects she’d combed the minds of looking for Altair.

“Heh… yeah, tell that to Them. They think I’m cracked,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“We’re all a little cracked,” Lucy said. “Honestly I think the most put together people in this place are Cain and Ezio. Everyone else is just… struggling.”

“I never thought I’d hear Ezio likened to Cain in my life,” Desmond said.

“They have no worries,” she said, “Ezio knows he’ll live forever, and all he has to do is whatever Altair tells him. Cain is above worrying about the world, whatever happens, happen.”

Desmond said nothing for a second, “Yeah,” he agreed. “I should take that mindset,” and he rapped his knuckles on his temple. “Would make my life easier,” he sighed.

“Or maybe not. I mean if I did that I’d be a cult leader,” Lucy said and Desmond laughed.

“Well not for nothing but I’d join anything you were a part of,” Desmond said before he could stop himself and realized he might have just made it weird. “Sorry, I didn’t-

“Its okay,” Lucy said, “I understand,” and she had this look in her eye Desmond didn’t quite get. It was almost like ‘I know you can’t help yourself’ but not in a good way. “So, are we going to do this or just sit around?” she asked.

“I dunno I kinda like the second one,” Desmond said and yawned. “I mean I don’t really know how to go further with you on what you wanna do. Whatever you have, its like nothing I got, or anything I’ve seen the Ilythians use, so I have no idea how to move to the next step.”

“Do you think I could have something like Eagle Vision?”

“Honestly? I have no clue. The Ilythians said no-

“The Ilythians are proeathans, and lie,” she reminded him.

“Yeah I know, they can. But if it could be moved further I think even they would see the merit in training you.”

“Desmond, they don’t even see me as a real person,” she reminded him, “Much less any gift I might have being ‘significant’ enough to train.”

Desmond frowned, ‘Sorry,” he said, “I just,” he stopped, looked at the ceiling then laid back on the grass. Lucy looked down at him. “Cain told me gifted humans could do this thing, a long time ago.”

“What was it?”

“They called it dreamsharing. You go to sleep and can access another person’s subconscious brain. Talk to them, manipulate their dream space.”

“You sound like you know.”

Desmond looked up at her, “The Adjatevs tricked me through dreamsharing,” he said, “they made me see a bomb.”

“I thought you said it was a human thing?”

“It is, though some proeathans can do it,” he rubbed his head, “The entire thing is so… unreal honestly.”

“Says the guy who glows,” Lucy said and she grinned when he gave her an unamused look.

“Hey, at least I know how to control the glow. This dreamsharing bullshit, I can’t even start wrapping my head around it. Bad enough the AIs are like ‘oh we REM interface with you while you sleep’ and act like its totally normal only its not.”

“No?”

“Humans can’t do it anymore,” Desmond said. “I’m just… Mr. Jimmy Special again,” he huffed.

“Special Snowflake Desmond Miles,” Lucy teased him.

“Uhhhg,” Desmond groaned but that just made her laugh at his pain.

She laid down on the grass next to him, “So no training today?”

“I don’t know what else to do for you. I mean it isn’t like there is much to go on. You can see active camo, okay,” and he let it hang. But there wasn’t much else.

“I guess,” she said and rolled onto her side, towards him and Desmond looked. Oh he totally looked. Her shirt rode up just _a tiny bit_ but holy shit he was thirsty enough that that was enough. She grabbed one of his hands and yanked the glove off. He wasn’t glowing, but the glyphs were still cut into his skin. Not even scarred either, just perfectly made dents in his skin in the shape of the glyphs. “How _did_ you get these exactly?” she asked, looking at his hand from all angles with the glyphs covered his fingers, palms, and back of his hands.

“When I raised Atlantis,” Desmond said and with a bit of concentration made the glyphs all down his arm glow, he could see several of the lights in the green house starting to flicker.

“How did you do that?”

“There’s this thing in the middle of the Pacific,” Desmond said, “I think its called the Dragon’s Triangle? Its the Pacific Bermuda Triangle,” she nodded. “There’s an _impossibly_ old structure there, right in the middle. I went there-

“How?”

“I took a boat.”

“But how did you get to the structure?” Lucy continued.

“Sea levels are way down during the winter-

“But a structure that size? We would have known about it.”

“I don’t know okay?” Desmond huffed. “I think the proeathans unearthed it, for me to eventually raise Atlantis once they’d stamped out human resistance. Atlantis, and the Unnamed resonate on a psionic level, though both at different frequencies. Atlantis resonates with the Eden. You know what that is?”

“Hera explained it once,” Lucy swallowed, still holding his hand, “Its how they control us, right?”

“Yeah,” Desmond said and stared at the ceiling. “Eden is the-“ he paused, made a face and then committed to the scifi sounding bullshit, “psionic frequency human brains resonate at and can feel.”

“What about the Unnamed? You said it does that too,” Lucy said.

“See the funny thing is, the proeathans built Atlantis for the specific reason to _cancel out_ the frequency the Unnamed resonates at. The Eden was a surprising side effect that the proeathans quickly harnessed that made all their slave controlling tools Eden resonating things. Anyway,” he got back on topic, “I went to the structure. And nothing worked. I mean literally nothing. But Artemis and Mercury _assured_ me it worked. I started it,” though oddly it had been the one proeathan thing that hadn’t taken hid blood. Though the structure hadn’t been very proeathan-like. The building had been made of some sort of white stone and was barren of their usual interior designs. “Basically I had to grab this floaty ball thing out of the air when it started to levitate-

“You use such good descriptions,” Lucy said and he couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“I had to complete a parkour platforming style puzzle in Rome are you really questioning me right now?” he asked back sarcastically and that made Lucy laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth.

“Go on, go on,” she gasped once she’d gotten a hold of herself.

“Dang disrespectful kid,” Desmond muttered sarcastically, Lucy gave him a look. “What? You’re like four years old,” he said defensively. She just gave him a firm poke in the ribs.

“Then that would make you a pedophile,” she said in a very serious tone.

“… Okay I take the entire thing back!” he said and again, made her laugh. For a second Desmond was just so distracted by it. She had a wonderful laugh. “So, okay I had to get a hold of a levitating glowing ball and the AIs walked me through what I was doing. And then there was this _huge_ pulse of energy, like it shot right into the sky and was a giant sign that was like ‘hey, I’m here, come kidnap me,’” he waved his free hand above him. “I passed out and when I woke up the glyphs had been burned into my skin and the AIs were yelling at me to wake up because the proeathans were coming. So I had to leave before I could investigate too much. But that’s why they’re like this now,” he rolled up one sleeve a bit, showing off more.

“They go everywhere?” Lucy asked.

“Everywhere.”

“ _Everywhere_?” she asked and Desmond thought that was weird. She’d _seen_ them on his dick. How did you forget glowing penis? Then he remembered. Right Hera had memory wiped her of him. He felt cold all at once.

“Everywhere,” Desmond said cooly and tugged his hand from hers, he made the glowing fade.

“You know what they’re for yet?”

“They point towards the Unnamed,” he said, “which is why I raised the damn city in the first place.”

“You’ll get there,” Lucy said.

“No shit I will,” Desmond said. “I don’t care what I have to do; I am getting to Atlantis.”

“Even piss off Altair?”

“ _Especially_ piss off Altair,” and Lucy giggled a little again.

 


	17. Carotenoids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know... reviews are nice.

It was like nothing had happened. Desmond had thought about what would happen in Demeter when people found out. But really, no one knew, nothing changed, though people seem confused as to why they hadn’t gone to investigate the mine. The lie about it being empty was accepted. The training of the commanding officers continued, as did the testing for Eagle Vision. Nothing could be stopped, as their date with Atlantis couldn’t be moved. The army needed to be ready, they had to come up with a plan to get through the barricade that no doubt would surround the city. Desmond’s training with Cain and the angels continued uninterrupted though he didn’t seem to be _getting_ anywhere with it.

Desmond wasn’t sleeping.

Sleep plagued him like the lingering smell of perfume when a woman walked by. He knew it was there, but it escaped him, tantalized him and made him want, but he couldn’t have it. 

A year ago, after they’d left Russia, as they crossed over the north of Africa, Desmond had had trouble sleeping. Too much guilt kept him awake at night till he surname to exhaustion and slept fitfully until the sun rose.

This wasn’t like that.

The fear of sleep kept him awake, restless, prowling the halls of Demeter at all hours. More than once he ran into Altair in the training area. He hadn’t been surprised to see Altair. He’d seen the ancient sleep for real only a few times. Once was in Russia, the night he’d wandered into the snow, and the other was the day he’d returned with Cain’s head and collapsed in exhaustion. The others, if there were others, he couldn’t remember. He made a point to try and avoid Altair at night, so he wouldn’t know Desmond wasn’t sleeping. He wouldn’t be happy. And as much as Desmond didn’t give a shit if Altair was happy or not, he didn’t like making people worry needlessly.

Sometimes he managed to catch five or so minutes of sleep. But with the angels’ training all his dreams were lucid and he instantly knew he was dreamsharing because he’d be in that star field. That was enough to wake him. His poor mind was a leaking ceiling, even with the block, he still sometimes felt Ezio and Altair’s influence in his movements, in his decisions. If those got through when he was awake, what would it be like when he was asleep? What slipped through the cracks then? It was just better if he didn’t sleep at all.

He hid it well at least. While walking across the world he was used to staying awake, to walking late into the night before falling asleep. He knew how to function on little to no sleep.

The only one who seemed to notice was Cain.

Maybe he knew the signs? Altair had always been an insomniac, even before becoming immortal. Old age hadn’t made Altair sleepless, he had always been.

One night saw Desmond at one of the animal gardens. Demeter had rapidly grown several herds of livestock animals for the use of the people in her care. Cows, goats, pigs, sheep, oxen and even chickens and turkeys, all for eating or getting milk or eggs. There were butchers in Demeter who handled the killing of the animals of that day, and they never slaughtered more than the ark could eat since the animals were a valuable resource as Demeter could only grow more so quickly without them degrading.

He had cows eating apples out of his hands. They were such huge, gentle, creatures with their big eyes and long lashes. He remembered when he’d slaughtered a cow in Spain. These were dairy cows though and in the morning a hoard of people would show up with buckets and pails and milk the cows. Some would go to make things like cheese or sour cream and apparently on rare occasions ice cream. The rest would go into coffee or tea or as part of a recipe. Milk was like the animals though, a valuable resource and while Demeter had gardens and gardens of vegetables, none of the animals were more than a year old. She’d been planning this since Desmond had first gone to Morpheus. They’d always have ended up here, and she’d been ready for them.

The cows, who had been sleeping when Desmond arrived, gladly licked the apple slices out of his hands and let him pet them. It was relaxing if nothing else. Desmond needed more of that, more relaxing things.

He heard the door a ways off open. “It isn’t morning yet, is it?” he asked Demeter.

“No, Desmond,” she said.

“Who is it?”

Cain.”

“Hmm.”

“Altair is also in the area. They just had an argument.”

“About?”

“The same old things,” Cain said and Desmond turned and looked at him. “That I’m a monster. That I’m a terrible influence,” he shrugged, “Meaningless things he wants to believe.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Desmond asked. Unlike Altair Cain slept. And slept like a baby. Peacefully and when you woke him he didn’t lash out with violence like the others did. He just opened his eyes and looked at you.

“Why aren’t you?” Cain asked.

“Not tired- Hey!” Cain flicked him on the temple with his finger. “What the hell?” he’d learned what words Cain did and didn’t consider swear words by now. Cain was just sort of… around a lot so he just stopped saying them when he remembered, and he watched his mouth around Cain.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not tired,” and at least Cain didn’t flick him again.

Instead Cain grabbed him by the chin and looked him in the eye. Cain’s blue eyes seemed to stare into him. He remembered how Cain would just look _right through him_ , not seeing him. Not into him or at him but just like he didn’t exist, wasn’t important enough to see. Now though Cain looked into him and he swallowed. “You need sleep,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said, not breaking eye contact.

“That is a lie older than I am,” Cain said, “I used to tell my teachers that too,” he let Desmond go and he stepped back and ran into the fence. The cows nosed against him, a few licked at his face and clothes, looking for more apples. “My Abel used to tell me that when he didn’t think I cared.”

Desmond frowned, “I have it under control,” Desmond said.

“Do you? Really? I spend more time with you now. I can see you don’t. You’re starting to fray _stadalla_. Talk to me,” and he sounded genuine at the least.

Desmond said nothing at first, then he gave in. “I can’t control it,” he said. “My mind… its broken,” and his voice caught. “Even when Altair repaired it, its still has cracks. I can’t plug them all.” Cain’s mouth was thin and hard. “When I sleep, I dream, and dreamshare and I can’t keep it together,” he looked at his gloved hands. “But I’m about as fine as I can be given the circumstances.”

Cain put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the cows. “You need to sleep sometime kid,” he said. “You’re the leader here.”

“Altair’s the leader, I just-

“No,” Cain said. “You need to step up. Altair is losing control of himself. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore, he’s lost and won’t let anyone help him find his way. Not me, not you, not even Jake. He wants to stumble around in the dark. You need to be the leader. Meaning you need to be at the top of your game.”

“Meaning sleep,” Desmond said.

“Yes.”

“But I just lucid dream now,” he ducked out from under Cain’s arm and stood in front of him. “And I know where I am, what I’m doing. It wakes me up.”

“You’re lucid, you can control it,” Cain said, “That’s why we’ve been dealing with those angels.”

“I can’t,” Desmond shook his head. “I try. But its different then learning in the White Room. I can’t do it.”

“Desmond, you’re the _stadalla-_

 _“_ Don’t say it like that explains it,” Desmond sighed.

“It means you’re one of the most powerful psychics the Earth has ever produced,” Cain continued, like he hadn’t interrupted. “Don’t look at me like I have six heads, boy. That’s all Eagle Vision has ever been and you accepted it the first time you knew about it in the animus,” Desmond didn’t ask how he knew, someone had probably told him. “Its your mind projecting what it feels onto the world. Its a long distance empathetic ability a specific sort of humans have nurtured over time. But that’s all it is. And you can do more.”

Desmond frowned at Cain. “How do you know all this?” he asked.

“I know a lot of things.”

“Yeah but you aren’t… like me, like Altair, like the others. You don’t have Eagle Vision. How do you know anything about it?” 

Cain sighed slowly and looked around. He seemed to be thinking. “I don’t have Eagle Vision,” Cain admitted.

“So how do you know about this whole thing? How do you even do half the things you do?” now Desmond was genuinely curious. “You said only someone angelic enough could find an angel in an Apple. But not even Altair can do that. Why can you?”

“Because,” Cain said, looking Desmond dead in the eyes. “Before you came along I was about as angelic as either of our species got after the war,” and Desmond’s eyes widened when Cain’s eyes turned yellow. But not in the way that his or Altair or Ezio’s eyes did, where they glowed in the dark as they went into Eagle Vision. This was a dimming, a powering down. Cain’s eyes went from a nearly glowing icy blue, to a muted yellow color.

Desmond’s mouth moved a second and then he said, “You’re a proeathan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://www.patreon.com/xazz)   
> 
> 
> you can click it


	18. Shrike in the Nest

The accusation hung in the air between them like a fragile piece of spider silk. Desmond could only stare. Cain seemed so much… softer with his dull yellow eyes. He didn’t seem so dangerous or otherworldly now and if Desmond hadn’t been about to wrap his tongue around the word proeathan he would have just thought Cain a man with strange eyes. He was human looking _enough_ , which was odd. He didn’t look any one ethnicity that had ever been. His eyes weren’t hooded, but they _were_ a bit slanted, and he had a proud jaw and strong cheekbones and jaw. But his mouth was small like it belonged to someone else though his lips were normal. He didn’t have any facial hair but Desmond could see the shadow of where it’d come in, and it matched his black hair which Desmond realized now… was curly? A little bit at any rate. It never occurred to Desmond than then that Cain was _too_ tall. He was about as tall as Desmond. Too tall for how old he claimed to be, only within the last hundred years or so did people above six feet really start to be a thing and Cain was _at least_ as tall as Desmond. Maybe a bit shorter.

“Close enough,” Cain said and blinked a few times as though to shake the blue back up into his eyes. Back to their cold blue color he seemed dangerous again, sharper somehow.

“What’s that mean?”

Cain said nothing a moment and then he said, “I’ve never told anyone this.”

“Really?”

“Knowledge can be a burden,” Cain said.

“What are you?” Desmond asked, wary, but more curious.

“My father was proeathan,” Cain said. “A Drell. The last of the Drell. My mother…” he trailed off, “she had Eagle Vision. My father tolerated her.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

Cain looked at Desmond meanly, “He loved her more than yours did,” and nothing could stop Desmond as his fist cocked back and he nailed Cain in the jaw. He’d moved faster than he’d expected to and was left winded. The force of the blow sent Cain to the ground.

“Don’t you ever talk about my parents like that again. Got it ?” Desmond spat.

Cain looked an equal measure of impressed and surprised Desmond had punched him. “Good one,” he said and pushed himself to his feet. “Next time,” he grabbed Desmond’s hand without his consent and though he struggled Cain didn’t seem to notice. “Hit here, and use this,” he tapped the black weight around Desmond’s wrist then put Desmond’s loosely balled fist up to his jaw, at the hinge where the jaw met the skull. “Puts pressure on the mandible, easier to crack the jaw here or even rip it clean off if you have enough force behind it.” 

Desmond snatched his hand back and Cain let him, looking at him bewildered. “Is your opinion of me changed now?” Cain asked.

“You’re _literally_ one of them,” Desmond said.

Cain rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. My people have been dead for thousands of years. I’m no more proeathan than you are. Actually, I’m about as proeathan as you are.”

“I’m human,” Desmond said stubbornly.

“So am I,” Cain said.

“You’re proeathan-

“So are you,” Cain said. “You can use their abilities. You have the ability of higher brain functions you call the sixth sense, psychic abilities. Ones above humans. You’re as human as me, Desmond.”

Desmond turned away from him, his mind buzzing. Cain let him have his silence. “I’m the only one you’ve ever told?”

“That matter, yes. I’ve told others, but they’re all dead now. So their knowledge is useless.”

“So not Altair?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Altair does not like change,” Cain said. “You know this. He likes things when they stay the same all the time, or when things are predictable. Telling him would have just alienated him from me when he needed me-“ Desmond barked a short laugh. “What?”

“I can’t imagine Altair needing someone like you.”

“Really?” Cain asked, cocking his head. “Because he needed me the same way you need me,” and that was news to him. He was about to rebuke that, that he didn’t need Cain. But the words died before they left his throat. He did need Cain. Without him he’d have never met the angels. Hell maybe without Cain he’d have never met his dad again, and this entire base would be empty. “I become what the world needs,” he said.

“Yeah, and what’s that? What’s the world need?”

“Right now? He needs someone who will listen,” and Desmond swallowed thickly, not prepared for that. “Since there aren’t a lot of people who’ll do that right now.”

Desmond looked away again. “Nothing else?” Desmond asked.

“You know what you need to do,” Cain said, “you don’t need a guide.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” Desmond admitted.

“You’re doing fine. Your choices have been the right ones.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because right choices are hard,” Cain said, “if it was easy then they wouldn’t be the right way. Altair… never learned that,” he sighed and seemed upset by it. “He’s always taken the easy way. The others take the easy way. They’re complacent, they’re meek and lack real will to change anything. They think they’re doing the world good but.”

“But?”

“Desmond,” Demeter suddenly interrupted, “I thought I’d let you know that Altair has entered the animal garden.”

“Oh- thank you Demeter.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“The others take the easy way,” Cain said again, “they don’t learn anything from it,” he shrugged a bit. Desmond was about to ask something when he spotted Altair over Cain’s shoulder. Cain turned around, “Ah, hello Abel,” and he could hear Cain’s smile.

“Cain. What are you doing with him?” Altair growled.

“Oh nothing more destructive than what you’ve already done to him,” Cain said, rocking a bit on the balls of his feet.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Altair said.

“And when have I _ever_ listened to anything you told me to do? Except, you know, that time in eighteen eighty-eight where you were _so_ adamant I kill those whores-

“Shut up,” Altair snapped.

“Truth hurts,” Cain said smugly. He looked back at Desmond, “An easy path traveled,” he said.

“What? What does that mean?” Altair asked.

“Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and stupid,” Cain poked Altair in the forehead, “you’d know.” Altair threw a punch, Cain dodged grabbed Altair’s arm and had him disabled in three seconds. Desmond winced when he heard the crack of Altair’s bone breaking. “Predictable,” Cain said.

“Fuck off Cain,” Altair hissed. “Let go.”

“You’d think you’d learn after so long,” Cain said mildly. “I was having a very nice conversation with your boy before you showed up,” and Altair looked at Desmond worriedly. “Don’t fret Abel, I wouldn’t hurt him. I like him.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Altair said through clenched teeth.

“What? Afraid I’ll replace you?” Cain said meanly. Altair’s face grew dark. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, _boy_. Now, do you want to heal the long way, or the fast way?” Altair looked at Cain, then at Desmond. “He can’t make your choice Abel. You have to make your own. Even though you keep running from the consequences. At least you didn’t teach him that, or I really would kill you,” Cain hissed.

“Fast way,” Altair said through clenched teeth.

“Excellent choice. Next time think it through before you attack me,” and he let go of Altair’s arm and grabbed him by the neck and cracked it with a deft snap. Cain sighed like he’d enjoyed it. “Pesky boy,” he said.

“Why do you do that to him?” Desmond asked, “Hurt him I mean?”

“He’s hurt me many times over,” Cain said. “I gave him the world, and he shit in my mouth,” Desmond blanched. “I did everything for him and he still destroyed us,” Cain was looking a thousand miles away and looked sad. “I am unimaginably old, Desmond,” he said. “I’ve loved and lost so many times it’s lost meaning.”

“But Altair was forever,” Desmond supplied.

“I wasn’t alone anymore. And then he left me. So why do I hurt him? Because he deserves to be hurt for what his selfishness has done.”

“Why do you enjoy it?” Desmond asked.

“Cathartic,” Cain said. “He’s been a thorn in my foot for a while. And he did lock me in an unbreakable prison for a hundred and twenty odd years. I think I’m perfectly in my rights to enjoy his suffering while he knowingly let me suffer in there. Losing my mind in a timeless, empty, black, void where my only company were my thoughts and after a while I forgot what my own voice sounded like. The torment of laying in my own filth waiting to go Under, knowing I’d Wake and do it all over again. Knowing Altair _willfully_ put me in there,” his face was twisted and monstrous now. Desmond took half a step back. “Now I get to make him suffer an _ounce_ of what he put me through. I better be able to enjoy it.” Desmond swallowed. “Don’t worry though, I have no intention of hurting you, or any of the others. The only person I care to hurt is Altair.”

“You’re very weird,” Desmond said.

“So are you but lets not start a pissing contest,” Cain said. He looked down at Altair. “I’ll take care of this,” and he picked up the immortal’s body.

“Where are you doing to take him?” Desmond asked.

“Hmm, probably someplace comfortable. He sleeps barely more than you. He could use the rest,” Cain turned his sharp eyes on Desmond, “As could you.”

“I told you-

“I know. And I’m _telling you_. Sleep. Find someplace you feel safe. You can control your dreams Desmond. There’s no need to be afraid of them.”

“But what if the Adjatevs see something in my mind?”

“Don’t think so little of those who protect you,” Cain said. “Venus,” he called up.

“Yes?” her voice sounded out of nothing.

“You’re watching over our _stadalla_ , right?”

“Always,” she said.

Cain looked back at Desmond, “Get some sleep, kid,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”

“I’ll try,” Desmond said.

“Good enough I guess,” Cain said. “I’ll go put this one to rest,” and he patted Altair’s back, the other man slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and walked off.

Desmond didn’t walk with him. He didn’t even know _where_ he felt safe. Except he did. He was too scared to go though. He went and fed the cows a few more apples before manning up and leaving the animal garden. His feet carried him to a bedroom. He took a deep breath, got a grip, and knocked. He knew they were sleeping. He knocked again. Once more and the door slid open.

A very tired Lucy answered the door, her hair misshapen and wearing a t-shirt and underwear and that was it and Desmond didn’t look. “Desmond?” she squinted at them and then realized who it was. “Desmond!” and the door closed before he could say anything. He waited a second, about to leave, when the door opened again and Lucy was now wearing, soft, sleeping shorts. “Sorry,” she said, face a bit flushed. “Uh… what is it?” she asked.

Desmond steeled himself and then he said, “I can’t sleep.”

“Desmond that isn’t really my department-

“I haven’t slept in a week since the false alarm at the mine,” he said.

That made her concerned, “Is everything all right?”

Desmond shook his head. “Its complicated,” he said.

“Alright? What are you doing here?”

“Can I sleep with you— I mean, can I sleep in your room?” he asked. “Like even on the floor or something.”

“Desmond—

This was a stupid idea, “Right,” he turned away from her. Of course she’d say no. It was a weird request.

“Desmond,” she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. “You can sleep in here,” she said.

“Really?”

She nodded, “Just tell me why.”

“I lucid dream all the time now and I’m afraid the Adjatevs will do what they did before, again,” he said. “I… talked about it with Cain. He said I should try and find someplace I feel safe and sleep there.” And he hated the look she gave him. It was almost _pity_. But more she was sad for him, that he’d resorted to this. That he couldn’t even find peace in his sleep. He wanted to leave right then. “You’re about as close as I can get to ‘safe’.”

“Not the others?”

“Cain just killed Altair. I trust Hawk and Ezio but… I dunno when Cain said go somewhere safe the first place I thought of was you. I’m sorry. I can leave if you want,” he motioned down the hall.

She looked up at him, “No, you can stay,” she said.

“Thank you,” and she let him in.

“You can sleep on the chair,” she pointed and it looked a lot more comfortable than the floor. “Now, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Sure. I’m sorry I woke you,” Desmond said as Lucy went back to the big bed and crawled into it. She tossed him a pillow and he found a blanket.

“Its alright,” she sighed out sleepily. “I’ve had men wake me for much less.” And Desmond din’t comment, though of course she meant the actual Lucy Stillman, who’d had boyfriends and a life and had lived in a time that hadn’t seen the enslavement and death of most of the human race. “Night,” and she yawned.

“Night,” Desmond said, the lights dimmed automatically and Desmond closed his eyes. It took a while, but sleep did eventually come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Consider checking this out to help me out](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/post/95116530924/%22)


	19. Shadow of the Teratorn

When Desmond woke he felt uneasy. His sleep had been… better the last few days, but he still woke in the middle of the night. Sometimes covered in sweat and he’d push the blanket off slowly instead of thrashing it off. He’d stay and watch the dark ceiling instead of pacing, or even leaving the room. He didn’t want to wake Lucy. Just because his sleep was a nightmare didn’t mean he had to wake her peaceful dreams. 

Some nights he went back to sleep, others he stayed up all night until Pluto’s voice alerted Lucy that it was time to wake up. Usually he just got up and left without notice, rarely did he wake and feel such foreboding. Not since the dream about the mine two weeks ago.

As soon as Lucy woke he was out of the chair and out the door with barely a good morning. He found the command center empty, but it did nothing to ease his unease. He went to the cafeteria and found a few people eating, including Jake, Altair, and Cain. He walked right past Altair and Jake and sat across from Cain.

“Good morning,” Cain said.

“Something’s happening,” Desmond said.

Cain looked up at him as he cut his eggs. “Everything is fine,” he said.

“ _No_ ,” he hissed. “I felt something. Something’s happening.”

Cain put his utensils at a resting position and looked at Desmond calmly, “I did not feel it,” he said. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Desmond said.

“The Adjatevs?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Its different. Closer,” he was just confused. He could control his sleeping mind better now. Recently he stopped seeing the star field, and he could pretend he wasn’t lucid dreaming, that he was just sleeping.

“Well I can’t help if I don’t know what it is,” Cain said, still calm, and went back to his breakfast. “And try and make it quick Altair is about to get up and come over here and I really don’t have it in me to deal with him today,” he continued.

Desmond looked over his shoulder at Altair and Jake. Altair was looking at the both of them and Jake was trying to get his attention. He looked back at Cain. “I think I had another vision,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Untampered this time.”

“What do you remember?”

“… Nothing. I just feel… like something is going to happen.”

Cain frowned a bit, “Gods and everything,” he muttered, looking behind Desmond. “You’d think he’d let me eat my breakfast in peace,” he said louder as Altair came over.

“What’s going on here?” Altair asked, hands on the table, leering at Cain.

“Just a friendly conversation,” Cain said.

Altair looked at Desmond to confirm, “Its nothing Altair,” he said.

Altair squinted at him, then at Cain, then back at Desmond. “You’ve been a lot more secretive lately,” he said. “And a lot more disrespectful.”

Desmond scowled at him, “I have always been this disrespectful,” he said.

“What sort of things have you been filling his head with?” Altair asked Cain, giving him a hard, angry, look.

Cain raised his hands in a dismissing way, “Nothing really. Just some well deserved truth.”

“Funny, because all you ever speak are lies,” Altair growled and Desmond jumped nearly out of his seat when Cain rammed his knife into the stop of Altair’s hand, hitting the table. Altair cried out in pain.

“Stop,” Cain said, twisting the knife very slowly.

“What the hell?” Altair demanded.

“Stop,” Cain said again. “Stop making me hurt you,” and Desmond looked between the two, stunned. “As much as you wish, Desmond is _not_ your son. He is your self appointed charge, and from the story I’ve heard you’ve failed him his entire life. Now I am giving him some well meaning advice on how to handle the end of the world, since you spectacularly landed it in his lap,” Cain twisted the knife and Desmond winced as he heard the metacarpal bones grind. Altair was bent over his hand, gasping and whining in pain.

“He can learn nothing else from you now,” Cain said, “your teaching has come as far as they ever will with your horrible short sightedness. I will not stand by any longer as you try and get us all _killed_ , Altair,” Cain’s voice never went up in volume, and there was only mild inflection. “Just because you want to die doesn’t mean you have to take the rest of us with you. Now-“ Cain yanked the knife out of the table and Altair’s hand, “when I’m talking to Desmond, its important. I am helping him in a way you can’t even begin to because you lack the ability, the genetics, and the knowledge.” Altair had his hand clutched to his chest now and it was bleeding heavily. “Jake,” he called, louder now.

“Uh… yeah?” Jake called from where he was sitting, having watched the entire thing.

“Come take him to Demeter’s med center to get that hand fixed,” Cain wiped his knife off on a napkin. He looked at Altair again, “I enjoy when I get to hurt you,” he told Altair. “I don’t want to but you make it so _easy_. Stop making me want to hurt you, boy,” Cain’s face and eyes and voice were hard as Jake came over to the table.

“What the… Cain,” Jake sent him a look.

“Just kiss it better,” Cain said, sort of meanly. Then he waved them away.

“Desmond,” Altair said.

Desmond looked at Altair, “He’s right,” he said and watched Altair’s eyes go wide. “Just… Just go, Altair,” and he looked away. Jake practically dragged Altair away. “I hate that,” Desmond said.

“As do I,” Cain said. “He just insists on breaking everything he touches,” and he went back to his breakfast. “Now, about your premonition. Do you still feel it?” Desmond nodded, “Is it coming from outside of Demeter, or inside?”

“How should I know- damnit Cain! Cain!” Cain threw two thick slices of hot potatoes at him, they both hit him in the face.

“Am I mockingbird?” Cain asked.

“What’s that even mean?” Desmond huffed.

“How many times do I have to say it to get it through that thick head of yours? Mary as my witness, it’s almost like you are Abel’s son from how thick your skull is.”

“Hey,” Desmond said, pouting a bit.

“You’re _psychic_ , Desmond,” Cain said. “Potentially a very powerful one, for now you’re still getting used to the simple things. One of those things is getting used to the idea that you _are_ psychic. When I ask you, is it coming from inside Demeter or outside, I mean shut up and figure it out.”

“But-

“But?” Cain asked pushing egg into his mouth.

“How?”

“How do you do anything else Desmond?” he asked.

Desmond opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he he just sat there. Cain ate his breakfast slowly as people started to trickle into the cafeteria. Desmond just sat there, trying to make sense of his foreboding. After a moment he went into Eagle Vision, to see if that gave him any insight. No. The sixth sense came next and he looked at Cain in hyper real colors that were so saturated and vibrant they were sort of painful to look at in the full light.

“Okay,” Desmond said, “Now what?”

“Now, what?” Cain asked.

“What’s the next step?”

Cain grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve even though Desmond tried to yank it down. He lost the sixth sense and his own muted colored vision came back. Cain pressed his thumb into the underside of his arm. “Glow,” he ordered.

“What?”

“Glow,” Cain said again. After a moment, focusing, Desmond did, the light racing down his arm. “Good. Now, make _this one_ glow,” he pressed his thumb firmly into the underside of his arm.

“It’s already glowing,” Desmond said.

“ _Just_ this one,” Cain said.

“What but-

“No buts. Do it,” Cain said and started to press harder on Desmond’s arm. It started to hurt. “I’m strong enough to break your skin if you don’t,” Cain said.

“Holy shit man,” Desmond said and Cain smacked the inside of his elbow so hard it stung.

“Do it,” Cain said again. “Pain and fear are powerful motivators. If I don’t get through the skin the pressure will end up fracturing or breaking your arm. Or at the very least leave a bruise,” and Cain was pushing harder now.

Desmond stared at the glyph Cain wanted and he stared so hard he might as well set his skin on fire. He did what he did when he turned it on and off. Around him he heard some people sound concerned as the lights flickered as the glow washed up and down Desmond’s arm, on and off and on and off, trying to get _that one_. Cain kept pressing. He really didn’t want a broken arm here.

Then, like a fucking miracle his arm went dark, the lights stopped flickering, and the one glyph glowed. Cain eased up on the pressure. “I don’t know what or how the glow is caused,” Cain said, “But I know its a mechanism controlled by your brain. Now what did we learn?”

“You have one hell of a grip,” Desmond said and Cain smiled in amusement. “And I can do what needs doing?”

“What I ask of you isn’t outside the realm of you doing,” Cain said. “But like this,” he tapped the glyph, “discerning if your ill feeling is inside or outside Demeter takes precision. Now. Is it inside, or outside of the ark?” and he removed his hand from Desmond.

Desmond pulled his arm back and rubbed the inside of his arm, he’d have a bruise there. Though Desmond realized Cain wouldn’t have _really_ broken his arm. At least… he hoped so. Desmond made all the glowing stop and then tried to focus the way he had before. Cain ate his breakfast but kept an eye on him as he did this. He tried Eagle Vision and the sixth sense again but realized neither of those would really help him. Both the ways he used them were sight based. What he wanted wasn’t sight based, right?

He pondered that for a minute before coming to the conclusion that it _could_ be sight based. He went into the sixth sense but it wasn’t doing it for him. He wasn’t very good at it yet like he was Eagle Vision. But Eagle Vision wasn’t as powerful. At least that’s what it felt like. It was limiting. “Cain,” Desmond said after a solid five minutes.

“Yes?”

“Probably stupid question but, people who use Eagle Vision are— technically psychics right?”

“Technically,” Cain agreed, “the way its been described to me is a sharpened projected empathy sight. Your mind can understand, on an empathetic level based on what you see, someone’s attitude towards you. They show up as colors. But its been so refined and honed over the centuries by those who have it and train others with it that most people don’t know any other way than that.”

“Could it be trained like the sixth sense to do more?”

Cain didn’t answer right away, “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Everyone I’ve met who’s had it never uses it for anything but the obvious choice is.”

Desmond frowned a bit, “Okay,” he was quiet again, thinking. What he was feeling he’d knock up to empathy, this touchy feely bullshit his brain was freaking out about. He looked around in Eagle Vision as Cain got up from the table and went to get seconds. The world was gray and warping at the edges, only the center at all focused. He wanted more focus though but when he sharpened his eyes he either lost the Eagle Vision or went over into the sixth sense.

Cain sat back down while he was trying to puzzle through getting a clearer image through this lens. He two plates down, one in front of him, and one in front of Desmond. “And eat,” Cain said, “it can be hard to think when you’re hungry.”

Desmond looked down at the plate. High protein, a big omelet with bacon and what looked like spinach, but only a single slice of bread and a few potatoes. Cain’s second helping was more diverse and decidedly ethnic. “I don’t get fun food?” he asked.

“You’re American,” Cain said blandly, “You and the English aren’t so keen on exotics.”

Desmond gave him a look, “I used to live in New York City.”

“You say that like it means something to me. I doubt its really changed that much in a hundred years. White people everywhere feeling superior to those who aren’t and eating the same boring food they have for centuries.”

“Prick,” he muttered but ate his breakfast. At least the food wasn’t bad. As he ate he mulled over how to do the thing Cain wanted him to do. Funnily enough he got an idea from his omelet. It was one thing, but it had two distinct ingredients in it. Bacon, and spinach, and he didn’t really like spinach but when he just ate it without picking the dark leafy vegetable out it just tasted awesome. But it was the bacon _and_ the spinach that made it awesome.

He stopped eating and went into the Eagle Vision. He looked dead at Cain who glowed a soft white color in his sight and was one of the only things in focus. Desmond slowly tightened his eyes to bring the sixth sense up. A switch flipped and Cain appeared in ultra vibrant colors. Not what he wanted. He went back to Eagle Vision and did it again. Again it was a switch flip. Cain just watched him, saying nothing, letting him work through it on his own. Which he appreciated. He wanted to be able to do things on his own.

He wanted to use them both, at the same time. That couldn’t be impossible. He _was_ fucking impossible, no way he couldn’t do this. He thought about how he’d made that glyph glow, just the one. He started rapidly changing between Eagle Vision, normal sight, and the sixth sense, and quickly gave himself a headache. He groaned and put his hand on his head. Across the table Cain chuckled. 

“That was a dumb idea,” Desmond said.

“I could have told you that,” Cain said smartly. “Figure out a way yet?”

“I think I’m in the right direction. Can you do it? Like determine where a feeling of foreboding is?” Cain nodded. “How?”

“I’m half proeathan Desmond, what I can do isn’t all like what you can do. My ability with the sixth sense is beyond you.”

“But _how_.”

Cain said nothing a moment, Desmond didn’t try and interrupt him. “Its just something I feel,” Cain said. “I can’t explain it to you because you can’t do the prerequisite to it.”

“Which is?”

“A higher level of empathy you don’t have.”

“Can I get it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what your limits are. Right now? No, you can’t. You’re too untrained in expanding your mind.”

“How do I do that?”

“Training,” Cain said, “like anything else you learn to do you need to practice it until it becomes easy.”

Desmond sat back and contemplated all that. He looked at Cain through the filter of the sixth sense. His brain was just doing this, opening different connections to see things different, his eyes were seeing the same thing. It was just his mind was changing what it took in from his eyes and filtered it differently.

What if he took that away though?

He closed his eyes but the sixth sense was like a flashlight and even with his eyes closed he could see the outline of things through his eyelids. “Do you sleep in the sixth sense?” Desmond asked.

“No,” Cain said, “The mind is most active at night for someone as old as me. I dream constantly. Sleeping as I am would be a stimulation overload.”

“You’ve tried it,” Desmond opened his eyes.

“Of course I did. I was young once and wanted to test the limits of my immortality.” 

“Huh,” and then Desmond got up.

“Where are you going?” Cain asked.

“I don’t want to blow the lights,” and Desmond walked away from the table. He heard Cain get up and follow him. He left the cafeteria and went down the hall to where his bedroom was. He went in and sat on the floor. “Demeter, kill the lights,” he said.

“Of course,” and the lights all went off. Desmond was still looking through the sixth sense and could see perfectly in the dark, and in color at that. Cain sat with him, his eyes glowing a soft blue. Desmond closed his eyes again but it was weird, he could still sort of see, still see Cain, and the furniture as globs of color against his eyelids.

“When I raised Atlantis,” Desmond said, “I went to a structure that was very old. It didn’t look proeathan. Do you know what it was?”

“No,” Cain said.

“Best guess,” Desmond still had his eyes closed.

“What was there?”

“What I saw was like… an energy ball? It had the same lines on it I do. I touched it and it sent out a huge burst of energy and Atlantis rose.”

“But it wasn’t proeathan?”

“No.”

“Then I doubt it raised Atlantis. Atlantis was the byproduct of raising the Unnamed.”

Desmond was quiet. The Unnamed and Atlantis resonated on perfectly opposite psyonic wave lengths. They canceled each other out but still allowed for psychics to exist inside their sphere of influence without hurting them.

Desmond let the glyphs wash over in brilliant teal light. He opened his eyes and was met by absolute darkness even with the light and the sixth sense. “Desmond,” Demeter said worried. “Please keep control.”

“I am,” Desmond said and kept his eyes open. “I have it under control Demeter, it’ll be okay.” He looked around in the darkness and was reminded of when he’d fallen in Mercury’s tower, or been in that pod for five years. But this was a darkness in the mind that he knew well. Like when Altair had died in Dubai, or when he’d gone into a coma after stabbing Lucy in Rome, or when Abstergo had abducted him and knocked him out for the flight across the Atlantic. They were all great darknesses and he’d been so afraid and scared all those times, on some level. But since the pod he’d accepted the darkness.

“Desmond,” Cain’s voice sounded far away, “remember to breathe.”

Desmond had been holding his breath without realizing it and when he breathed in it was like splashing his face with cold water. “Cool,” he said, grinning and looking around.

“What are you seeing?”

“The ark,” he said, “on an empathetic level, I think. Maybe not, hard to tell.”

“What’s it look like?”

“You won’t get this reference, but kinda like the Matrix.”

“You’re right, I have no idea what that means.”

“Like threads… I guess. Connecting people to each other, some are colored, and each person and thing is a light. The rest is void. Materials are ignored, I only see organics, through walls or floors or ceilings.”

Desmond looked around and then down at himself. Several threads he’d mentioned were connected to his chest. Most were white, one or two were gold and then one was a brilliant red and pulsed in a gentle red light. There was also one that was the darkest black he’d ever seen. So black it was visible even against the darkness of this sight. It took him a minute to figure out how, but he extended himself along the black thread. This was the sense of foreboding he’d felt all morning. It grew stronger as he followed it towards the destination but he was surprised he didn’t have to go very far. In fact, it was coming towards him.

He drew back into himself and then let the glowing of the glyphs go. Demeter turned up the lights a little bit. “My premonition was coming from inside the ark,” Desmond said.

“Ah,” Cain said. “Then that is a problem isn’t it.”

“Demeter, lights,” and the lights in the room went up to full brightness.

“We’ll see what it is soon though,” Desmond said.

“Oh?” Cain asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, cause its coming this way right now,” and there was an abrupt knock on the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Consider checking this out to help me out](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/post/95116530924/%22)


	20. Serpant-Eagle's Delight

The silence was stiff and inflexible as they waited for Lucy to arrive. Desmond just sat, waiting. Several minutes passed before the door opened and Lucy entered. She looked around the room at the grim faces. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Oh, the usual, everyone trying to kill me,” Desmond said.

She gave him a look, “I doubt this is a time for jokes, Desmond,” she said.

He levered himself out of the chair, “Yeah but if not now, when? I mean I’m probably going to die before this shit is over anyway, cause no way the universe is letting a freak like me live past usefulness. So might as well get the jokes in where I can, right?” She didn’t like that answer, none of them did. Desmond was the only one who’d come to terms that he would die. Well he didn’t _want_ to die, he liked living quite a bit. But he knew that there was no happy ending for him. The only end for him was the welcoming embrace of absolute darkness of death. 

“What do you need me for?” she asked, “Demeter said something about your clone.”

“Yes. I need him,” Desmond said.

“For what?”

“Well, the others _did_ want to put me in the Animus-

“What?” she demanded and then turned to Ezio and Hawk, “Have you two lost your damn minds?” she scolded the both of them. Ezio hunched a bit. “And who’s idea was it to go along with what I’m sure was Andrew’s dumb idea?” The immortals looked between each other guiltily. “If you’re lucky I won’t tell Altair so he won’t skin you two for your combined idiocy.”

“I know right?” Desmond chimed in. “I mean I kinda expected it from Ezio. But Hawk? Anyway. I need my clone for the Animus,” he said.

“Why?” she asked. Rebecca butted in then, and explained it like she had to Desmond, adding in the Toba event information. “I mean… that sounds like a pretty good idea,” she said.

“But I’m not getting into the Animus,” Desmond said.

“Well if you had any ideas you wanted to I’d stop you,” Lucy said. “I still can’t _believe_ you people wanted him to get into the Animus again,” she sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair a bit. She looked really hot when she pushed it back like that. No Desmond don’t think that, he scolded himself and got back on track.

“Do you know where my clone is?” Desmond asked.

“I mean… its been like seven months, Desmond,” she frowned. “He could be anywhere.”

“But he failed,” Hawk piped in, “his purpose. He’s a failed test and Altair cut his face up a bit so they couldn’t trick us again. So he’s useless to them.”

“Wouldn’t they just kill him?” Ezio asked.

“I doubt it,” Lucy said, “proeathans hate throwing things away if they can’t help it. Its why they have empty, useless, bases, all over the world. Old strongholds from the First War, left exactly as they were. Though there isn’t much left of them now. But if they went through a lot of trouble to make me, and Desmond’s clone. They wouldn’t just- just throw us away,” she swallowed uncomfortably.

“Alright, so then best guess on _where_ he might be?” Desmond asked.

Lucy approached the holotable and brought up a representation of the globe. “Normally,” she said, “They’d put useful tools and technologies in Juno or Minerva,” she circled their positions in Italy. “But both bases have been converted into a factory and a science facility,” she licked her lips. “But that’s for manufacturing. Desmond’s clone and I…”

“That’s where you were created?” Hawk asked, without any feeling. He wasn’t doing it to be mean. It was simply a fact.

“Yes,” she said. “But we didn’t stay there long. We were relocated here,” the globe turned, showing Asia and a dot literally appeared smack dab in the middle. ”This is Apollo, the center of everything up until probably the rise of Atlantis. Apollo is where most of the non combatant proeathans lived and probably still do live, since I have no doubt the proeathans know we’re going for Atlantis and don’t want civilians anywhere near there.

“Its also the proeathans terraforming base. This is where they started to cool the planet and where a large seed bank was kept. Nothing like Demeter but these are plants and animals from tens of thousands of years ago to take the place of the plants that grew to adapt a warmer planet after the proeathans left. Its also capable of amazing feats that I honestly have to describe as magic since maybe only Hawk and Rebecca would be able to understand what I’d be talking about.”

“Hey,” Shaun said, indignant.

“Its more math than you want to deal with, Shaun,” Lucy said as way of apology. “But they turned the land around Apollo into a paradise. This map, is wrong,” she swiped her finger across the map in two large, shallow, crescents that formed an incomplete circle. “There are mountains here now. They create a rain shadow much like the Himalayans do. Hot air rises from Apollo from the machine’s processes of terraforming, keeping the planet cold, builds into clouds and then rains within the newly created basin. When I was there the land had already been converted into a temperate rainforest.”

“But how did they make the mountains?” Shaun asked critically. “There aren’t any tectonic plates there.”

“I told you,” Lucy said, “its… like magic,” there was awe and wonder in her voice, but also fear, that people could do things like this. “Air traffic above an around Apollo is carefully monitored as you can well imagine,” she continued, back to business. “Theres _no way_ we could get in there. Any numia who doesn’t identify as friendly gets blown out of the sky.”

“You’ve seen it?” Andrew asked.

“I’ve seen video,” she said. “The attempts of the last five years made by humans was part of my education so that when I was with other humans I could tell you, in detail, how futile this all is.”

“And do you think it is?” Andrew asked, eyes narrowed.

She looked at them, and then at Desmond. “I mean, I think its’ impossible but-

“ _But_?” Andrew pressed.

“Desmond has that look in his eye where he’s not going to listen to me anyway so me trying to stop you is futile itself.”

Desmond laughed, “Oh, you got that right,” he said gleefully. “How friendly do you have to be to get to fly into Apollo?” he asked.

“You have to be on their side,” she said.

“Or probably be me,” Desmond said.

“Desmond. No,” Ezio said.

“Did you just-

“You’re not going to Apollo.”

“You going to stop me old man?” Desmond challenged. “If we need what Eve knows so badly then we have two options; you put me in a fucking coma forever, or we go get my clone. There is no plan C. And don’t bring up Altair,” he added when Ezio opened his mouth, “We all know Altair won’t be happy about it.” He turned back to Lucy, “Who could get us in?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Could you?”

“Hardly. I’m on their wanted list. See what went wrong,” he tapped her temple.

“Could Od?”

“Possibly. It depends on what the relationship the Ilythians had with the Adjatevs before they went missing.”

“Didn’t they defect?” Ezio asked.

“I mean,” Desmond started, “not ‘officially’ or anything. They’re such a small group that I doubt the Adjatevs wouldn’t welcome them back. Especially if they brought something to smooth it over.”

“Like what?”

No one was going to like what he said next, “Well, me.”

“Absolutely not,” Ezio said.

“Now you’re the one who’s lost it Little Bird,” Hawk said at the same time.

“Desmond you can’t,” Shaun said.

“Stop stop,” he held up his hands while everyone talked at once, they quieted. “Look, its the best way,” he said.

“Its a good way to get you captured,” Ezio said.

“It isn’t up for debate,” Desmond told him harshly. “I’m going.”

“Big Eagle would literally lock you up when he finds out,” Hawk said.

“Then we aren’t telling him,” Desmond said.

“Desmond that’s crazy,” Ezio said.

“Good thing I’m a little crazy,” he gave Ezio a bit of a reckless grin. “I need to get to Apollo because as much as I like Od and the Ilythians, I don’t trust them with this. And no one else here could walk into that place and walk back out again.”

“And neither would you,” Ezio said.

“I could. I will,” Desmond said, “I’m more proeathan than any of you. I’m a bit on the short side to be a proeathan, but I’m in the height category. And if needed I’m the only one who can use the sixth sense like they do if they test me. I also know myself better than _any_ of you. I’m the guy for this job.”

No one looked happy about it, but no one disagreed either. If they needed Desmond’s clone they needed someone to go get him, and none of them were fit enough for it. “Fine,” Ezio said, “No one breathe _a word_ of this to Altair. He’d shut the entire thing down. We can tell him once you’re gone,” he told Desmond.

“Just make sure he doesn’t follow,” Desmond said.

“Before we get too far in our little scheme,” Shaun butt in, as he was prone to do. “You might have the physical requirements of being proeathan, but you look nothing like them. And I’m sure they all know _exactly_ what you look like.” Desmond frowned, he hadn’t thought of that.

“If we may,” Venus’ voice chimed in from the ceiling.

“Yes, of course Venus,” Desmond said.

She and Hera appeared around the holotable they were all standing around. “Hera and I may have a solution to your dilemma of being… human.” Venus once more wore the likeness of Altair, and used his voice, which made this all sort of weird.

“Which is?”

Hera reached up and tapped her featureless mask. “The disciples of the stars are called _hadi ko enlrnma,_ or faceless starseers. We were a united movement within the proeathan city-states without allegiance to anyone save the high priestess. They are a neutral faction that offer spiritual help to the population. 

“The size of the order has shrunken dramatically since we were reawakened, but we don’t doubt that people are joining out of fear and wanting some sort of understanding in this chaos.

“The faceless wear masks at all times, some of the most devout even when they sleep. If you could infiltrate their quarters and done their uniform, you would be able to move around Apollo rather freely. We highly doubt that those there have a full count of all the faceless. It went into  a great disarray when I was sacrificed into this.”

“How do I do that?”

“This is a map of Apollo,” Venus said, bringing up a new hologram. “The hanger where numia are required to enter through is here,” the large room glowed blue. “We do not know exactly where the hall of the faceless is, but Hera has an approximation.”

“It is somewhere in this area,” Hera said and an area of what looked like several football fields lit up green. “It is, unfortunately, as close as we can determine where hall of the faceless reside.”

“Quick question,” Hawk said, “Desmond also can’t _speak_ whatever language is the common one in Apollo.”

“Faceless often take vows of silence for several years, or even their entire tenure,” Hera said. “Find a mask with three black crosses, one in the middle of the forehead, and one under each eye. All within the order of faceless will take vows of silence and will chastise anyone who attempts to speak to you because to be spoken to is to be tempted to break your vows.”

“So an excuse to not talk, cool,” Desmond said.

“You’ll blow your cover in like five minutes,” Shaun said sarcastically.

“Shut up, Shaun,” Desmond said, scowling at him, but not too hard. “But that sounds like it could work,” Desmond continued, “Just getting to the hall of faceless will be a challenge.”

“If an Ilythian is there they could help you,” Rebecca said helpfully. “Like if its a group you could just blend in with them.”

“Before you progress,” Hera said, interrupting. “A faceless’ eyes are their most prominent feature. A proeathan will maintain eye contact with a faceless at all times to not appear rude. You _must_ be in Eagle Vision at all times while you are at Apollo as proeathans only have yellow eyes, if they see your eyes, you will be found out.”

“Wonderful,” Desmond sighed. “Okay, sounds simple enough. Now we just need to get the Ilythians to help us,” he said. “They awake yet?”

“Od is holding a meeting with his seconds and thirds,” Pluto said. “But I have informed him you wish to speak with him. He said once breakfast is over he’d be happy to meet with you on his side of the ark.”

“Christ back and forth, back and forth,” Desmond muttered under his breath, “Okay,” he said louder, “Thank you Pluto.”

“Of course.”

“Hera, Venus, thank you for your help, unlike these yahoos,” he gave the rest of them a look, “Wanting to put me in the Animus,” he half muttered and rolled his eyes. “I think we’re done here?” he asked them. There were some nods and yesses. “Great,” and they dispersed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Consider checking this out to help me out](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/post/95116530924/%22)


	21. Birds with Friends

When he left the room, walking towards the lift with Lucy he said, “Sorry for disrupting your breakfast.”

“Its fine,” she said. “It wasn’t very peaceful anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I went and tried having it in the main cafeteria. No one would leave me alone.”

Desmond frowned, “I’m sorry,” Desmond said.

“Its okay. I knew it would happen.”

“Why don’t you just tell them off?”

“I do,” she said as they got on the life. The doors closed, neither of them picked a destination. “But while some listen, most don’t. So many want to talk to me, or touch me. At this point I’m glad I cut my hair, otherwise people would probably pull on it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Desmond said.

“Yes. Usually when I want to eat in the main cafeteria Jake comes with me. Everyone knows him, or knows at least when I’m with someone to leave me alone because he doesn’t tolerate people getting close to me when I’m trying to eat.”

“Well did you finish your breakfast?” Desmond asked and swiped in the code for the eating area.

“No,” she admitted, “I couldn’t really people kept coming to try and talk to me. Then Demeter called me and I’m just glad they let me go.” She looked down, upset about the entire thing, “I didn’t want to eat alone today, or with the children, they’re nearly as bad but not in a bad way,” she sighed. “Jake just wasn’t around,” Desmond winced a little. Yeah he wasn’t cause he was with Altair getting his hand fixed after Cain fucked it up.

He didn’t say that though. “Well, I haven’t had breakfast yet either,” Desmond said. “I’m not Jake, but I won’t let those people get to you if you wanna have breakfast with me,”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Desmond smiled at her. “If anyone should be allowed to be normal in this damn place, its you.”

“Thanks, I’d like that,” she smiled at him too and it took every ounce of will power he had to not kiss her just then. He just wanted to make everything for her better and as good as it should be. But he couldn’t be weird about it. He couldn’t force it to happen. 

Fuck he hadn’t had it this bad for a girl since he was seventeen and living on the streets of Atlanta. There had been a girl at the homeless shelter he went to. She’d been beautiful and kind to him and had clearly been into him and they’d seen each other outside the shelter a few times even. She’d been like the first girl he’d really gotten to know outside of the Farm. He’d wanted to ask her out, but he was waiting till he could get a job so they could go on dates and do stuff together. But he’d seen people following him and ran without thinking and used the little money he’d had to catch a bus to D.C. instead and left without saying goodbye. 

He knew now those people had probably been his ancestors, but back then it hadn’t mattered.

He used to think about her sometimes, before he’d grown up. Her name had been Anna. Then he’d realized what an idiot he’d been. He thought he’d been in love but he was just infatuated. He kinda felt like that now, only it was different. Or he thought it was different. He was wise enough to see the similarities between then and now though.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t going for it though. He just had to keep it the fuck together and not ruin it. Lucy was giving him a chance, and he was just going to let it happen if it happened. If it didn’t? Well, he’d gotten over his first love, he’d move on eventually.

“Great,” Desmond said, “I’m also starving so I won’t even talk to you, just fill my face with as much food as I possibly can,” he said as the lift glided to a halt and they got out. That made Lucy laugh. “And you know that glare Altair has that looks like he could rip your spine out with his eyes?” still smiling Lucy nodded, “Yeah I can totally do that too to all the people who might wanna come bother you. Man, what was the name of that guy,” he snapped his fingers to try and recall a name. “You watched Fairly Odd Parents right?”

“Well…”

“You know what I mean,” he said, brushing off the fact that Lucy Prime had done so. “You’re you, remember?”

“Right,” they went to get food. “We didn’t really have TV growing up,” Desmond nodded, “But when I moved out to go to school in Chicago I basically binged watched the eighties and nineties,” she said. “So yeah, I know the Fairly Odd Parents.”

“So remember the big tough fairy?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded a little, getting food.

“That’s me,” and that made her giggle. “God what was his name, this is bothering me so bad now.”

“Jorgen von Strangle,” the person in front of him supplied.

“Yeah! That was it. Thanks,” he gave them a grin.

“Ah, yeah,” and they looked at Desmond, then at Lucy, then at Desmond again and swallowed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Desmond said and they quickly left the line.

“Thanks,” Lucy said. “I recognized that guy. He’s one of the officers, asks to have lunch with me every day.”

“Yeah? And what do you tell him?”

“I tell him no,” they left the line, Desmond’s plates filled with fresh food. “He still asks though, even though I told him my boyfriend wouldn’t like that,” they sat.

“Boyfriend?” Desmond asked.

“Its a lie,” Lucy said like she couldn’t believe Desmond was so dumb. “But, it makes people who want to get in my pants leave me alone. Everyone thinks its Jake.”

“So you’re fake cheating on your husband with someone? Wow Lucy that’s low,” and Lucy laughed again. “I’m telling Jake you’re fake cheating on him he’s going to be so upset.”

“Might even file for divorce,” Lucy said mildly.

“Like he’d let you keep the kids,” and he was just glad he could make her laugh.

“Also I had a question,” Desmond said.

“Hmm?”

“Is Jake mad at me? About the whole mine thing? He’s barely talked to me since then.”

“He was. I don’t think he is anymore. I think Malik talked him out of it.”

“Ah, yeah that makes sense,” he ate and then said, “Demeter, tell Jake we’re here if he wants to join us. His wife misses him,” Demeter didn’t answer but he knew she’d heard.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Of course,” Desmond said and then saw someone from over her shoulder trying to approach. Desmond’s face went hard and he glared at them and they turned away. “I thought it’d be worse than this,” he said, dropping his angry face.

“They just haven’t figured out I’m here yet,” Lucy said, “usually takes them a few minutes. I’m easy to spot cause of my hair,” she brushed some of her bangs from her eyes.

“You know what’s up with that?”

“Up with what?”

“You and some of the Assassins are the only pale haired people in the entire ark,” he said.

She grimaced, “Pale hair is an extremely recessive trait in proeathans. Red hair doesn’t happen _period_ and clear blonde like mine is very rare,” she was speaking softly so her voice didn’t leave the table. “After the mass die off and the first few years of the proeathan slaughter they decided they wanted to also experiment on us. For cosmetic reasons because proeathans are incredibly vain. So they took all the blondes and redheads out of the plantations and factories and I… I imagine some of them were melted down for DNA parts,” she shuttered a little. “Others are probably in ‘breeding programs’ as they call them to try and create more of them so research can continue. Others are being tested like you’d test animals. Infants probably as well, mothers injected with things or given supplements while they come to term. See what the baby looks like when it comes out. What do _they_ have to do to get pale hair to get eyes that aren’t yellow? How do ours stay blue all the time? Or _green_? They’re especially interested in green eyes.”

“That’s disgusting,” he said.

Lucy nodded, “Its considered holy, since stars are white,” he frowned deeply. “Albinism is considered like… being perfection. I was probably incredibly difficult to synthesize because I’m blonde, blue eyes, fair complexion, freckles. Three of the four don’t really _exist_ for proeathans.”

“Hey!” suddenly Desmond was being hugged around the head, “Sup nerds,” Jake said and draped himself on Desmond.

“Ahg, Jake! C’mon man I’m trying to eat here,” he shoved Jake off and he went around and sat next to Lucy.

“I heard you were keeping my girlfriend company,” and Jake put his arm around Lucy’s shoulders.

“Better me than the people around here,” Desmond said. He didn’t envy Jake being so close to Lucy. He knew nothing would come of it. Jacob had been gay as all hell and Malik was about as gay as a guy in his position could have been.

“Well none of them are invited to the wedding anyway.”

“Jake we’re married already, remember,” Lucy said.

“I mean the _second_ wedding,” he grinned at the both of them.

“God you’re so dumb,” Desmond said. “Good save on forgetting you were married though.”

“No need to be jealous, Desmond,” Jake smirked at him and only cause it was Jake did Desmond know he wasn’t doing it to be mean.

“Yes, so jealous. Especially of your perpetually jealous, homicidal, boyfriend,” Desmond teased right back. “I thought you had a restraining order.” That made Jake chuckle.

“Yeah well you should-“ and Lucy jammed her elbow into Jake’s ribs. “Ow! What the heck,” he pouted at her.

“We don’t need the mental image,” she said.

“But-

“What?” Desmond asked.

“Don’t bring up Altair he starts acting like a love sick school girl,” she advised Desmond. “I’ve had to sit through his longing sighing about the entire thing since you’ve been gone.”

“Luuuucy,” Jake whined.

“Also you don’t need the mental image of Altair naked.”

“Ehhhhh,” Desmond shrugged, “I don’t really care. I mean, I lived as him for a while. I know what he looks like naked.”

Jake got a really weird look on his face, “Don’t say that its weird.”

“Dude, I have his memories in my head.”

“Still! He’s your grandfather.”

Desmond rolled his eyes, “I watched him and Maria fuck once, they had Sef.”

“Des _stop_ ,” and now Desmond laughed evilly.

“He looked like a terrible kisser. Please tell me he doesn’t eat your face like he used to.”

“Lucy,” Jake said, “Make him stop.”

“No this is actually really entertaining.”

“Ahg, you’re both terrible,” Jake said dramatically, letting Lucy go and throwing his hands up a bit.

Desmond just grinned and ate, Jake sulked a bit. After a minute Lucy said, “I missed this.”

“Hmm?” Jake asked.

“Its been so serious the past few months. I missed just having a good time.”

“Well can’t be doom and gloom all the time,” Desmond said. “Though not really many chances for whacky hyjinks right now. Kinda end of the world.”

“I know,” Lucy said, “its just,” she frowned. “I don’t want what’s left to be so serious all the time,” Desmond looked at Jake and Jake was wearing his expression. They both knew Lucy’s life expectancy. “Kinda a downer isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed.

“That’s why you have like eight hundred kids though,” Jake put in. “They do stupid shit that puts me and Des _to shame_.”

Lucy smiled at that, “Not without trying very hard though since you two clowns are something else.”

Desmond started when Pluto was suddenly sitting next to them. “Not to interrupt,” he said, and Desmond didn’t know if he was lying or not, “but Desmond, Od says he’s ready to see you. You should go speak with him. I also heard Andrew say he might just tell Altair regardless of what Ezio said.”

“Fucking hell. Okay, tell Od I’m coming,” Pluto nodded and vanished. “I need to go do that thing.”

“What thing?” Jake asked.

“Proeathan thing, don’t worry about it,” Desmond said getting up.

“I’ll take your plate,” Lucy said when he grabbed it.

“Okay, cool, thanks. I’ll see you guys around,” and he left quickly and caught the lift towards the Ilythian side of the ark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Consider checking this out to help me out](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/post/95116530924/%22)


	22. Moth Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /mass uploads like 20 chapters  
> oops my bad

Od was waiting for him with Inti and Zorya when Desmond arrived. The Ando and his Sengars were sitting at a table discussing the state of their people when Desmond opened the door. “ _Stadalla_ ,” Zorya said in greeting when he came in.

“Zorya, Od, Inti,” Desmond nodded and joined them at the table.

“Demeter said you needed to speak to me?” Od asked.

“Yes,” Desmond nodded. “Something’s come up. Its about the Toba event,” and the proeathans instantly looked on edge.

“What about it?” Od asked slowly.

“First, what do you know about it?”

Od’s mouth went tight and Desmond saw his veins in his forehead protrude a bit. Then he relaxed. “It was the event that led to the humans dominating the world,” he said.

“Great, but what _was_ it?”

“We’re not quite sure,” Od said. “It, correct me if I’m mistaken, was a global EMP.” Desmond’s mouth fell open a bit. “Everything that wasn’t turned off was after that.”

“How?”

“We don’t know,” Od said. “What happened is a mystery to us. All we know is that that _naterun_ Eve destroyed our civilization,” he growled. “Didn’t matter if some of us were sympathetic to you humans. She destroyed us all anyway. When our civilization fell we moved quickly to ensure we had a plan. We went into cryostasis and well, you know the rest.”

“Oh,” Desmond said and felt his plan falling apart. The point of getting his clone _was_ to find Eve and what had happened at Toba. Maybe even recreate it.

“Now what did you need _stadalla_?” Od asked patiently.

“Well, I want to go to Apollo,” he said.

“No,” he was surprised when Zorya had been the one to speak. She had a deep, masculine, voice with a very pronounced accent but spoke very clearly regardless unlike Od and Inti who could sometimes be unintelligible. 

“But you didn’t even let me explain-

“The answer is no,” Zorya said.

“Od-“ Desmond tried.

“I’m sorry Desmond. But if you want to go to Apollo we won’t be assisting you.”

“You’re kidding. Why? At least give me that,” he said, trying to not be angry or annoyed with them.

“We would be killed on sight if we showed our faces to our proeathan brethren,” Od said. “These Ilythians here are but a quarter of our population. The rest continue to serve the Adjatevs along with our _Adocore_. We are traitors to our species, and our own people. Those with me did not like what our race had become serving the Adjatevs, killing humans when it goes against our way of life. They are loyal to the idea that sentient creatures should be allowed their own will.

“I’m sorry, it isn’t that we don’t want to help you. Its that getting near Apollo would see any of my men dead. And after having to leave my men to the mine I cannot condone another suicide mission like this.”

Desmond sighed and leaned back. Well that was certainly a good reason to refuse him and he knew there’d be no convincing the Ilythians. “Can I at least use one of your ships?”

“If you want, though you may be shot at,” Od said.

“Why do you even want to go to Apollo?” Zorya asked.

“I’m going to get my clone. I need him for something.”

“What something?”

“We’re going to find out what happened at Toba,” and the Ilythians’ faces grew dark. Desmond continued on, “and maybe recreate what Eve did all those years ago.”

“Be careful what you do _stadalla,_ ” Inti said lowly. “Eve did not live long past Toba. Rumor said she was around long enough to whelp twin sons before she died, though not of complications of their birth.”

“Some of the slaves that remained said the energies came from Toba killed her,” Zorya said.

“Do you know where Toba is?” Desmond asked.

“No,” Od said. “We know the general location, but we could never locate the source of the EMP itself.”

“I see,” Desmond sat there for a moment. “Well, I’m going to find it anyway. Thanks… I guess,” and he pushed himself up to his feet. “Sorry to interrupt you guys.”

“Desmond,” Od said as he was leaving. “Be careful when you find your clone. He is you, in every way.”

“I know,” Desmond said and left the room.

Desmond had no idea what he was going to do now. He personally didn’t know how to fly a numia, and if wanted a human pilot he’d have to get an okay from Altair. Which would never happen in a million years. The only person who knew how to fly a numia who wasn’t an Ilythian was Lucy, but he’d never put her in that sort of danger. Over his dead body Lucy was going anywhere near Apollo.

“Desmond,” Venus suddenly said, appearing next to him as Altair, startling him he was so far in his own head.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Cain’s looking for you.”

“Yeah? For what?”

“He says to come.”

“You can tell him I’m not a fucking dog,” he growled. Not anymore. He was no one’s well behaved lap dog.

There was a moment of silence, “He said he will take you to Apollo. Now would you like me to take you to him?”

“Yes,” Desmond said and he followed Venus to a lift and she made it go. She left him at the hanger that led up to the surface. Cain was standing to the side, to his surprise Lucy was with him. “What is it?” he asked as he approached.

“Lucy was telling me your plan,” Cain said, nodding to her.

“Yeah? And?”

“If you don’t want Altair to stop you we should leave now,” Cain said.

“Yeah? You got a plan?”

“They still think I’m on their side. My coming and going won’t be important since I won’t report you with me,” Cain said.

“And I wanted to come,” Lucy said.

“No,” Desmond said.

“Desmond-

“Lucy, no,” he said.

She scowled at him, “Don’t make decisions for me.”

Desmond fought down his initial protective feelings. He had to make it clear this had nothing to do with his feelings. He straightened and looked down at her. “I run this operation,” he told her in a hard voice, “As the Commander and Chief I am _ordering_ you to stay. Is that understood Stillman?” he said his face becoming as hard and mean as his tone. He was so fucking _tired_ of people talking back to him when he made a decision. Even Lucy.

She looked back at him defiantly, meeting his eyes with steely determination. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Good. Now, if you have any information that could be useful, I’d love to hear it,” he relaxed a bit.

“Just what I told you already,” Lucy said. “If you can get in contact with us at all once you’re in there though I could maybe help more.”

“No,” Cain said. “Demeter needs to be protected. No communication in or out. I’ll watch his back though once he has a mask on he’ll be invisible.”

Lucy frowned a bit, “All right,” she said.

“Ah, here we are,” Cain turned when a numia was brought out of the hanger’s storage and set down in the middle of the landing pad. It looked different than the Ilythian ones. It took him a moment to realize it was the one Cain had chased them to Mexico. “Lets go,” he said and left the two of them and boarded the rear ramp entrance.

“You’ll be okay?” Lucy asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Desmond said moving towards the numia. “Wait till we’re out of easy range before you tell the others I’m gone.” 

She nodded, “I wish you’d let me come,” she said, “I could help.”

“I know. But I can’t have others around. And Cain’ll help me,” he said standing just off the gangway.

“Do you really trust him?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Why? He’s done so many awful things, Desmond. You know what Altair said about him.”

Desmond said nothing for a moment. “Because I trust Altair,” he said at last, “and Altair has done a lot of awful things too, like more awful things that I could ever imagine. If I can trust him, I can trust Cain too.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Lucy said.

“Desmond,” Cain called, “lets go.”

“Coming,” he called back. “Don’t let them come after me,” he said.

“I won’t,” she said.

Desmond looked down at her and felt a horrible wave of selfishness wash over him. It occurred to him, standing there, that he might not come back to Demeter. That he might die doing this. Or worse, the proeathans would do horrible things to him, make him their puppet. It was a mad idea, going to Apollo, alone, but you couldn’t get close to the base with an army. It would have been suicidal. So one man in, to find his clone. Desmond was that one man, because he, unlike the rest, could fool the proeathans into thinking he was one of them. He was tall enough, and could speak the language, and if needed could switch to the sixth sense. But it was dangerous, especially for him. He was so good at being strong over the past few weeks. And he was going to waste it all for a moment of weakness?

Fuck it, he might die.

“So this is going to be horribly selfish on my part,” he started.

“What?”

“But hey, I could die so I’m going to be a little selfish-

“What?” she said again.

“So don’t be too mad.”

“Wha-

Desmond leaned down, cupped her face and kissed her sweetly. His chest ached horribly. He loved her so much, but she might never love him back. She didn’t kiss him back, too shocked he’d even do this. As said Desmond was being pretty damn selfish right now, he knew that. He told her he’d never make her uncomfortable or push her into choosing him. He wasn’t, not really, but he was about to go into the belly of the beast, alone, and he could never see her again. He’d never get to see her again, or see her smile, or watch her play with the children, or joke with Jake, or anything. It pained him horribly to know this too. So he was being momentarily selfish so that if it did all go sideways at least he’d have this, one last kiss; for the both of them.

It lasted only a few seconds and then Desmond let her go. “Sorry,” he said, not smiling, she was staring at him still, blinking rapidly. Then he went back up the gangway and pressed the button to close the rear hatch. “Bye,” he called, “Pray I don’t die,” and then the gangway was between them, the numia sealing. “Lets go,” Desmond told Cain.

“What took you?” Cain asked as the numia gracefully lifted off the landing pad.

“I was just being a bastard,” Desmond said and sat in the co-pilot seat. Cain was controlling the numia with one hand on a half dome yoke, his other tapping at a screen to his side.

Cain looked at him, sort of amused, “So the normal then?”

“Shut up,” Desmond said, slouching in the chair. Cain just chuckled and the numia started to climb rapidly.

 


	23. The Gullet

The flight to Apollo was long and pretty boring. Desmond practiced his _sikas_ to pass the time and tried to apply them to the Eagle Vision. When he got stuck he asked Cain about them and Cain would explain what he was doing wrong, how to fix it and get better. At some point he even just took a nap. He was woken by the sound of Cain talking in a language he didn’t know.

Rubbing his eyes Desmond looked at what was going on around them. He could see Apollo from here. It looked like something out of a scifi painting. It was a citadel with many tall towers and a great sweeping base. Around it was a lush green forest created by the rain shadow and in the distance he could see the eastern mountains as they flew over the western range. In the setting sun it looked amazing and he felt like _this_ could have been a better future.

“Never seen a proeathan building from the outside?” Cain asked.

“Well, one, Mercury,” Desmond said. “Nothing like this though,” Desmond restrained himself from pressing his face against the glass to get a better view. “What were you speaking in?”

“Hado,” Cain said, “language of the Drell. A few proeathans still speak it. I don’t speak their language, my father never taught me.”

“What were you saying?”

“I’m coming back empty handed. I need to plan out my next move.”

“They believe it?”

“I spent three years hunting your friends,” Cain said. “My hands always came back empty until recently. I’ve be gone for months at a time and then the trail would go cold, I’d return to the others. Then they sent me after you. They know I can find you, I found you in New York and Mexico, this is just a setback.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“You hide in the numia until I come get you. I’ll have the faceless uniform for you.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Desmond said, Cain nodded slowly.

The numia descended and they headed for a big, open mouthed, hanger, near the base. “Get in the back,” Cain ordered and Desmond left as they entered the hanger. “No one should bother my numia while I’m away,” Cain said.

“Okay,” Desmond said, still trying to look through the window, it wasn’t very bright though so he went into the sixth sense to get the heightened vision. “Hey Cain, do you feel that?” he suddenly felt the crawl of foreboding in his stomach again. There also seemed to be a _lot_ of soldiers in the hanger. More than he expected to see. Something felt so incredibly wrong.

“Feel what?” Cain asked.

“I feel the badness again.”

“You’re in enemy territory now,” Cain said as he landed the numia gently. “You’ll get used to it,” and when Cain looked back at him the feeling grew. “Or not,” and he opened the back hatch without warning. Desmond jumped and there were no less than a dozen proeathans standing down the ramp, guns aimed at his face.

Someone started barking at him in a proeathan language. But Desmond couldn’t move, he was barely breathing. “Oh shut up he can’t understand you,” and Cain suddenly was shoving him forward. He stumbled towards the gangway.

“Put hands up,” the proeathan language changed to badly spoken English.

Desmond looked back at Cain, “You tricked me,” he said disbelievingly.

Cain just smiled at him, “Don’t take it too badly.”

“Why would you help me though?”

“Put hands up-

“SHUT UP,” Desmond yelled at the proeathans, losing control of himself and the glyphs started to glow. The proeathans leaned back, wary.

“I needed you to trust me, kid,” Cain said, arm around his shoulders like that morning at the animal farm. He was grinning horribly. “And you were _so_ desperate for anyone to guide you; wasn’t that hard. But my people wanted you in hand. Now they do,” Cain pushed Desmond down the gangway and right into the line of proeathans.

Desmond thrashed when many hands suddenly pushed him down, “Cain!” he yelled. “You bastard!”

Cain looked down at him pitilessly. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you proeathans lie?” Cain asked. “I told you I’m a proeathan, what did you expect?”

“I’m gonna kill you!” Desmond yelled.

Cain shrugged, “Okay. I think that’s all I need to be here for. Where’s Tiamat? I need to tell her where Demeter is,” he asked the proeathan in charge.

“No!”

“And will you shut him up?”

One of the proeathans said something but Desmond didn’t know what and then he felt something prick his neck.


	24. Raven Feathers

The familiar darkness surrounded him. He felt no need to panic or fight, no need escape. He was warm and safe now, what more could he have asked for?

He was home.


	25. First Flight

There was a light, so dim and far away it might have not even been there. Then like Desmond was inside a great egg the light cracked in a spectacular spiderweb, gleaming bright light through larger cracks. The shell was peeled back and Desmond’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body convulsed. He couldn’t breathe and yet his lungs kept filling with air. A long snake was pulled from his throat and he rolled onto his side, convulsing and coughing, his limbs spaseming and above he could hear worried talking.

Eventually the spasms stopped and Desmond lay still, breathing hard, sweat and some sticky fluid soaking him head to toe. His lips felt chapped and he felt like he’d run five marathons.

 _“Stadalla_ ,” he heard someone said. 

Shaking so hard he felt like he was about to fall apart Desmond looked behind him. There were four proeathans standing behind him. His mouth moved but he said nothing. He was still in shock. One of the proeathans approached and swaddled him in a blanket. He didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t know where he was; but he did remember why he’d come and what had happened to him. “You safe,” one of the proeathans said in broken english. Desmond was still just shaking and when they pulled him off the table he realized it was a pod like he’d been a year ago. Only the sides were down.

His legs were weak and the proeathan with the blanket around him wiped him dry. Then clothes were thrust at him and they helped him dress. Shirt, pants, full foot sandals. Over it went a flowing, shapeless, robe that reached the ground and covered his hands to the wrist. They gave him gloves to hide the glyphs on his skin. That was when he realized his bracelet was gone. He hadn’t taken it off when he’d left Demeter. Stupid mistake. He could barely talk though to ask. A light weight, surprisingly breathable, mask was placed on his head, concealing his face and the glyphs from view.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The proeathans just put their fingers to their lips, saying nothing to him, and led him out of the room. He was too stunned and disorientated to focus on where he was going. There were no people in the halls around them, just him and the four proeathan who were on either side and front and back. His head hurt and for a second he wasn’t in Apollo. He was in Damascus, hands clasped, walking through dusty streets in the company of imams were sang hymns softly to each other on their way the mosque. Then reality snapped back into place. He was in Apollo, and he was very much alone. Cain had betrayed him and who knew who these proeathans were.

He was led to a room that looked like a monk’s cell. Bed, a desk and chair, and series of coat hooks along the near wall. That was it. “Safe here,” one proeathan said in a whisper. “Faceless sleep here. Sleep, we will come again,” and then they were gone and the door was closed. Vaguely, he tried it. As expected it was locked.

He was too exhausted to do anything else. He pulled off the robe and sandals and got under the covers. The air was chilly, like a day in fall back in New York. He kept his clothes on and the mask. He remembered Venus saying that very devout faceless slept with them on.

As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

He didn’t know how long he slept. But when he woke there was a proeathan sitting in the chair in his little room, watching him sleep creepily enough. He blinked awake and reached up under the mask to rub his face and eyes. He still felt so utterly exhausted. 

He looked at the proeathan a bit more and saw that they wore no mask, and unlike the Ilythians they were white. They were also _very_ female, and with red and black clothing fitted to accentuate the curve of her hips and her narrow waist. Her hair was black and long with straight bangs. She had large yellow eyes and a small nose and wore the reddest lipstick Desmond had ever seen in his life.

“Don’t speak,” she said as Desmond sat up slowly, probably speaking the best English a proeathan he’d ever met had spoken. There was no getting rid of that accent. But it was very gentle. She’d clearly been practicing. “Get dressed, all will be explained.

He sat sideways on the bed and looked at her. He went into Eagle Vision but oddly enough, she was just grey. He sharpened his eyes to get another perspective. But even when he looked into the future she wasn’t moving. She was just sitting there, waiting for him. With a grunt he got to his feet, put on his sandals and pulled the robe over his body.

“Follow me,” she said, finally getting up and went to the door. She was a bit taller than him and Desmond must have been _really_ tired because his first thought as she walked away from him was she had a fantastic ass. Yeah, definitely tired. She stopped at the door when he followed her, “Also, Pipek; eyes,” she pointed up to her own.

Eyes? And who was Pipek?

Then he remembered, right, _his_ eyes. He went into Eagle Vision. She nodded and walked out, he followed.

They went to a lift and the proeathan input their destination. Desmond wanted to talk so badly, but he remembered he needed to stay quiet. Who knew if anyone was listening, and he still didn’t know if he could trust this woman. The lift moved quickly to who knew where before finally coming to a halt what felt like a very long ways away. But then Apollo had appeared huge. That thought made him suddenly nervous though. What if he wasn’t still in Apollo?

The woman walked out and Desmond kept stride with her. She said something to him in proeathan as they walked past a pair of other proeathans who did everything in their power to not look at either of them. Desmond just nodded, what else could he do?

After a few hundred feet they went into a room. It looked like an office. “You can speak now,” the woman said in her slightly accented English where she seemed to hold onto the vowels just a _bit_ too long.

“Mask?” he asked.

“You can remove it. The Adjatevs do not have permission to tap my personal study,” and she went over to the desk there and sat. “Please,” she said. Desmond removed his mask and sat. “I’m sure you have questions,” she said.

“Yeah, first; where’s Cain? I’m gonna kill him,” he growled.

The woman just furrowed her brow, “I don’t know anyone named Cain,” she said.

Desmond thought about describing Cain but then he realized; white, black hair, yellow eyes, was probably the worst description he could give. He had to assume Cain wouldn’t stay in the sixth sense in Apollo either. Among his kind blue would have stood out and while Cain had a god complex a mile long he didn’t really like being known unless he decided he did.

“Never mind,” he grumbled, “Who are you?”

“My name is Mars Spar,” she said, “I’m part of the Neotrall Triad of Netall people.”

“Okay,” Desmond said slowly, digesting that information. “Am I still in Apollo?”

“Yes.”

“Why… are you helping me?”

Mars leaned back in her chair, looking at him. “What do you know about my people, _stadalla_?” she asked.

“I just know the Ilythians,” he said.

She smiled slightly, amused or sad. “The Hedren faction of the Ilythians broke away from the rest of their people because of an ideological difference,” she said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but their _Ando_ is Od Sighted.”

“That’s right,” he said.

“A very free thinking, young, Ilythian if I’m not mistaken.”

“I dunno, he seemed pretty old to me,” Desmond said.

“He’s one of the youngest _Andos_ the Ilythians have ever had.”

“Okay so I never asked cause I thought it’d be rude, but what the fuck is an _Ando_?”

Mars thought on that a moment, clearly trying to come up with a way to explain it in English. “He was a governor,” she said. “That is the best I can describe it without giving you a long history and political lesson and I know you don’t have time or patience for that.”

“Fair enough,” Desmond said.

“The Hedren are an extreme faction within our people, always have been. They believe in peace, in all things, and will go to any lengths to achieve it, even murder,” huh, well that sounded like the Assassins. “During the First War they sided with the humans.” Well that explained why Od was so upset about the Toba event.

“Did Od lead in that time?”

“No,” she said. “The Hedren were barred from our arks along with several other extremist factions and those who sided with the humans. They’re all dead now.”

“But you just said-

“Od and his _Sengars_ resurrected the old movement. They gained momentum, the leaders of Apollo tried to stop them, so they left.”

“Okay? I don’t know what this all means I guess.”

“The proeathans you’ve met so far have been on two opposite spectrums haven’t they? One wants you dead, the other wants to help you and have left their lives behind to do so. We’re not all like that,” she said. Desmond was starting to piece together what she was saying. “There was sympathizers to the human cause in all the bases,” she said.

“Then why haven’t they helped?”

Mars looked uncomfortable. “We want to,” she said. “But the Adjatevs are the main force not just here in Apollo, but across the planet. They control _everything_. If we spoke up, we’d end up like those of us that didn’t make it to the wakening.”

Desmond hesitated, “What happened to them? I thought just eight proeathan city states survived.”

She smiled sharply, sadly. “No. There were _dozens_ of city states before the Fall,” she said. “Even after the Stars were made and what happened at Toba we still vastly outnumbered your species by the tens of millions.” Desmond felt a cold knot form in his stomach. “But the Adjatev nation was the strongest by far, they’d been able to withstand the Toba blast the best. Millions died in the chaos after Toba. There was looting and riots and even the city of Atlantis was awash in blood. And that was nothing to say for the attacks on us that followed in the coming weeks and months by you humans. It was an _apocalypse_ on the scale that you humans still speak of it in your scripture.

“The Adjatevs made the bases you know about. The Stars, Venus, Apollo, Pluto, Juno and the rest. They let certain nations, of what remained of their population after Toba, seek refuge with them. We were all much smaller and weaker than the Adjatevs, and didn’t have the resources or the ability to make the vast cryostasis chambers like the Adjatevs did. But other nations had their own cryostasis chambers to house their people till a time when the world had healed and humans no longer detested us. Many set their wake up time to be tens of thousands of years in the future, some even would still be asleep to this day.”

“But that didn’t happen?” Desmond said.

“At some time, we don’t know when, the Adjatevs woke. Not many of them, a small force really, perhaps a few thousand years after we went to sleep. They went around the world and _sabotaged_ the rest of the nations,” Desmond just stared at her. “The genocide committed by the Adjatevs during this time was on a scale as large as their eradication of modern humans. Billions died in their cyro chambers, leaving only six of each nation to survive, to know their fate.

“But when the Adjatevs told us what had happened, what they’d _done_ to our people, it scared us, _stadalla_. Those who would fight against them did not, and just stepped aside. Those who’d want to help you stayed quiet. We may fear you, but you haven’t killed nearly our entire species.”

“So its obey, or die,” Desmond said.

“Yes,” she said. “Otherwise you’d have more than just the fanatic Hedren helping you.”

“So, what about you?” he asked.

“I’m a sympathizer,” she said. “I don’t want you dead.”

“But you are scared of me,” he said.

She swallowed, “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” he squinted at her. “The last proeathan I trusted let me get captured.”

“I understand your hesitation, trust me, I do,” Mars said and opened a drawer in her desk. She set a matte black sphere on the desk. “I was told to give this to you once you’d woken,” she said.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked reaching out and taking the sphere.

“It was given to me by one of the leaders of the sympathizers,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, just that I was supposed to give it to you. A peace offering I was told. What is it?”

Desmond pressed the sphere to his wrist, the hard surface gave and formed around his wrist. “A secret,” he said.

“Very well,” she said.

“What’s your angle?” Desmond asked

“I want to help you,” Mars said. “I know you wouldn’t just come here for no reason. Tell me, I’ll see what I can do.”

Desmond didn’t know how much he could trust her, but she had given him his weapon back, and she was defenseless. “I’m looking for my clone. Is he in Apollo?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about finding him.”

“Okay, next important question, won’t the Adjatevs miss me from that pod?”

“Once the pod is active it doesn’t need to be tampered with and only alerts if what’s inside it is starting to break down. Otherwise there’s no difference between a full or empty pod.”

“Who were those people who got me out?”

“My fellow Netall who are sympathetic towards you,” she said. “We put you somewhere safe after you were in there, and the realm of the faceless is forbidden except for other faceless.”

“How long was I in that damn thing?”

“Ten days,” she said. Well that explained why he didn’t have any muscle atrophy. He was sure the others were _freaking out_ by now though. And he was here, alone.

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Kamala said he’d come see you soon,” she said.

“Who?”

“Kamala, he arranged all this. Your garb and place in the faceless, us talking, the sphere. Kamala made it happen, he’s been working on it since you arrived.”

“I see,” Desmond said. “Now what?”

“You’re not my prisoner,” Mars said. “I also have no idea where your clone is and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find him. The Adjatev leaders like to keep him close.”

“Alright. I’m going to start looking around. What if I get lost?”

“I’ve registered you as a new Netalish faceless. Their quarters are… strange and are not always where you think they’ll be. If you’re out past curfew older faceless will be sent to retrieve you.”

“Okay, great,” Desmond said and put the mask back on. Mars got up from her chair and went around to open the door.

“Be careful,” she said before opening it. “I… can’t help you if you’re discovered.” Desmond nodded. “Eyes, Pipek,” she reminded him.

“What’s Pipek?” he asked.

“Its your name, isn’t it?”

“I mean… I guess?” he said, confused.

“Kamala told us to call you that. Its a proeathan name at least, so they won’t ask about it.”

“Okay,” Desmond nodded. “Well, here I go I guess,” and he waited for Mars to open the door for him. Once she did he went through. Mars didn’t follow. He turned around and looked at her. She said something in what was clearly her native tongue and waved before closing the door again, leaving Desmond alone. He cursed himself. He hadn’t asked where he could get something to eat.


	26. Branch of the Fruit Dove

After wandering around Apollo for a while Desmond found a fairly busy cross section of the base and found a place to sit and watch. It didn’t help that he was still weak from being in that pod and all that walking had exhausted him. Sitting on a bench off to the side in a busy foyer reminded Desmond of sitting on a park bench in New York City, people watching. Only instead of humans and being outside he was inside and watching proeathans. This was clearly a very busy part of Apollo, because they were everywhere, walking up and down the atrium in groups or alone, talking.

Desmond had expected the amount of proeathans in Apollo. They were, predictably, everywhere. He noticed that there really were eight distinct types of proeathans too, despite all having the same hair and eye color. Their clothes and how they wore their hair was clearly very important to the proeathan nations. In a species where everyone basically looked the same it was obvious that both national pride and individual identifiers were very important to their society. Even more than with humans proeathans seemed to want to both look different but also be part of their nation.

There were proeathans who dressed similarly to the AIs before they’d broken their coding, flowing garments, veils, capes, and spectacular headdresses and headgear. He got the feeling they were the Adjatevs, since they’d made the AIs. The Adjatevs were all white as well. They always walked with an air of superiority. Well of course. They’d destroyed the world twice over, once for the proeathans, and then again for the humans, destroying their entire population. They knew they were at the top of the food chain and their air was absolute arrogance.

Another group were clearly the Ilythians that remained in Apollo, and they were the only black proeathans Desmond saw, and wore fitted, simple, clothing that looked like they were all military issue. Or government issue. The same boring white shirts and dark grey slacks. Women wore their hair in ponytails or braids, the men kept their hair short. Not a single one of them didn’t look like they couldn’t fuck you up either. He remembered what Od had told him about his people, they strove for absolute peace in all things, and killing was a means to an end for them to achieve this. Every Ilythian he’d met had been a warrior, it seemed the entire nation was.

The third group he could put a name to were probably the Netall. They seemed especially keen on the color red with cutting black accents. Women walked around in pure red dresses that seemed to shimmer like a fire while they walked. Some of them even dyed parts of their hair red, like the ends or the roots though never their full head. They all also had some form of red face makeup. Most Netall had crimson lipstick, but a few sported striking red eyeshadow or more stylized red markings around their eyes, or across their forehead or cheeks.

The other five nations were equally as structured. One group of them wore their black hair long, and probably would have been down to the floor. Except that they all wore their hair in elaborate braided architecture that they braided all sorts of things into. He saw jewels and flowers and beads of every color and bows and ribbons. Their clothes reflected their hair by being floral and exaggerated patterns, only in black and white and were shapeless in style.

 Another nation wore all black or dark grey, and they freaked Desmond out the most. Black shirts, black pants, black dresses, without an inch of skin to show except for their faces which were as were the color of bleached flour. Their black hair was worn long and straight and they were so pale they were nearly translucent. They all looked sickly to Desmond, their yellow eyes were especially pale and seemed too large for their skulls making them sort of bulge out a bit.

Another nation still wore barely any clothes at all and exposed their pale skin of their shoulders, arms, and legs nearly up to their crotches. Their clothes were more just a long scarf they’d wrapped around themselves to preserve their modesty. Most of them were bald but a few sported fringes or grew out the hair in front of their ears. They all also sported white tattoos on their arms, chests and legs though at a distance Desmond couldn’t see what they looked like. At least until Desmond looked at them in the sixth sense and their tattoos glowed in brilliant colors, reminding him of the burning of different elements. 

The forth were very plain like the Ilythians, at least at first glance. In the sixth sense he saw that under different lenses of his sight their clothes and even their hair was dyed different colors or patterns. They were also the only proeathans he saw who regularly went around switching up into the sixth sense to check on who they were talking to. It made no sense to him.

The last nation reminded him of the Netall and seemed to be _about_ a certain color. Only their color was green and gold. It was everywhere on them and all the men wore pale green, sheer, veils, across their faces, their black hair worn up under a golden bonnet. The women in green all wore green or grey or gold colored turbans. They also ‘jingled’ when they walked and Desmond saw that was because of a strand of metal beads they wore either around their waist or as a bracelet or anklet they’d wrapped around their wrist or ankle a few times.

While seeing so much _difference_ amid a people he’d only known through the Ilythians or in the soldiers was a shock he’d… kinda also expected it. They didn’t dress like humans, nor have the same rules to them. If anything he kinda appreciated the proeathans for how they dressed and acted towards each other, specking softly, not touching one another, not looking too long at each other. He especially liked how they didn’t look too hard at him. Once they saw his mask, or his shapeless pale robes their eyes slid right off him like they knew not to look too long at a faceless. And that was fine with him. In fact all of it was fine. All of it he could deal with an accept and had expected.

What he hadn’t expected were all the _humans_.

Humans dressed slightly like proeathans. Clearly to mark them as which nation they belonged to. Netalish humans dressed in red, Adjatev ones with caps and veils, some dressed all in black. He knew just from watching they were all slaves because they all had the same marking. Thick metal bands around their wrists, ankles, and throats. 

But these weren’t the same people he’d seen on his travels, who were harrowed and afraid of being discovered. Or even the former slaves he’d seen in Demeter who hated the proeathans. No these people were almost… happy? Content maybe? Perhaps the word placated would have been better? Or maybe resigned? He could tell in the looks they gave each other as they walked around, sometimes following proeathans, sometimes by themselves, that they hated this and were sympathetic towards their fellows. But there was also that _look_ like they _knew_ they were lucky. They weren’t out in the plantations, or sent to the mines or working in the factories and probably weren’t being experimented on for horrible things. They were slaves, but they had a better life than their fellow humans.

Desmond remembered wondering where all the blondes and red heads were in Demeter. Shaun and Lucy were the only ones in Demeter with pale hair, and one of the few with light eyes. But the thing Desmond noticed the more he watched the slaves was that… they all had some form of blonde or red hair, and nearly all of them had blue or green eyes. He saw a few with darker eyes, but they were rare. And that answered his question of where all the fair haired humans had gone. They’d become house slaves to the proeathans of Apollo and probably the other bases at that.

He was so completely grossed out by the entire thing.

But he was also glad to know that at least they seemed well fed, looked clean and were clothed. They probably weren’t forced into concentration camp style lodging where it was a dozen people to a room and disease spread like wild fire. And they weren’t out in the wilderness starving or dead on the ground or being hunted by proeathan soldiers. They were slaves yes. But they were safe here if nothing else.

Desmond sat there for a while, watching all the proeathans and humans moving about, doing this or that. He was so focused on looking at everyone that he didn’t notice come up next to him and sit on the bench with him. “Don’t look at me,” they said softly in Ilythian. Desmond didn’t move, he barely dared to breathe actually. “I’m a friend. Kamala sent me.”

“Who’s Kamala?” he asked, breathing again, also in Ilythian.

“A friend.”

“Who are you?”

“My name isn’t important.”

“What do you want?”

“You’ve been sitting here a while. Kamala was worried about you. Everything all right?”

“Just people watching,” Desmond said. “And I don’t know where I can get food, I’m starving.”

“Follow behind me when you feel ready. I’ll be around the corner to the left. I’ll show you,” he said. Desmond nodded a little. “And don’t speak again,” and they said something else to him in some other proeathan language and got up and walked off. Desmond waited nearly half an hour before he got up and walked to the left. His legs felt weak and he was so tired. He needed to get something in his stomach since he knew this feeling. He was famished.

He walked around the corner but didn’t know what to do from there. He didn’t know what the proeathan who had spoken to him looked like. Then, to his complete surprise someone walked past him and _bumped_ into him. Proeathans didn’t touch in public it seemed, touch based empathy was apparently a thing. That meant that they’d bumped him on purpose. That was who he had to follow. So he did, though appeared to not, walking a dozen or so feet behind them.

They walked for a bit before arriving at what looked like… a cafe? It seemed the proeathans had those things too. He’d expected a cafeteria like they had at Demeter. But there was nothing of the sort. His proeathan guide turned around for the first time and Desmond could finally get a good look at him. They were one of the scary proeathans who wore all black. They said something in their language clearly to him but of course Desmond didn’t reply. He just cocked his head to the side. The man approached him and said something else but Desmond of course couldn’t understand.

Once he was closer he said, in Ilythian again, “Faceless pay for nothing,” his voice so soft Desmond had to strain to hear. That’s when Desmond got the picture. He could eat for free. Awesome. He waved the man away, letting him appear annoyed with his existence and the man said something that was clearly rude because several of the proeathans around turned and looked at him either aghast or like they wanted to punch him. Desmond just shooed him away again and they turned on his heel and stomped away.

He wandered around that area for a bit before going into the cafe thing. There were tables, nearly all empty, and a bar though no alcohol behind it it seemed. Instead the bar was where food was made. No one greeted him so he just sat.

While he waited he looked around and saw some of the staff in the back corner, clearly bickering over who’d have to serve him. He smiled to himself. Oh if only they _knew_. They’d probably love to serve a faceless over what he really was.

In the end none of the proeathans came to help him and instead a human woman was shoved towards him. She seemed petrified of him. She said something to him in what was clearly horrible proeathan because the staff in the back were laughing into their hands. He turned and looked right at them, staring them down and made his eyes go blue. The proeathans _wilted_ under his stare and left his sight, going somewhere else where he couldn’t stare at them.

He looked back at the woman, she was blonde and pretty with brown eyes and freckles. He smiled at her so she knew now to be scared. She spoke to him in the proeathan language again but he shook his head, he didn’t know that one. She deflated some. “This, you know this?” she asked curiously. She spoke English! Though it was with a thick German accent. Desmond nodded. “Why don’t you talk?” she asked. He pointed to his mask. “Oh… okay,” though he knew she didn’t understand. “Here,” she handed him a red rod that fit easily in his palm. After a second he found a button on it and pressed it. He did his best not to start in surprise with a holo screen erupted from along the side. It was the menu.

He fiddled with it for a second before finding a setting to just change everything to pictures since even translating it into Ilythian didn’t help. He didn’t _know_ what the words meant other than simple things like ‘sandwich’, ‘cold drink’, he wanted pictures. The woman just stood there waiting while he looked at what was here. Like Lucy had said there was a lot of vegetables, and a lot of bread. No seafood though.

Finally he found something he wanted, and pointed at it, showing it to the woman. It was a pretty normal looking sandwich actually though stocked with veggies instead of meat. Then he flipped to where the pictures of drinks were and pointed at some weird bright yellow milkshake looking thing with blue balls in the bottom that reminded him of bubble tea. He didn’t know what was in either but he wanted to try it.

“Okay,” she nodded and made to take the rod back. Desmond just shook his head and kept it back. He might be hungry still after that. She seemed to understand and nodded again and left.

Desmond waited quietly for his food and watched as the proeathans at the bar made his meal. The woman brought his food first. It was a good sandwich. It had cucumbers and spinach and and tomatoes and lettuce and some hot pepper of some sort and some kind of mild cheese. It was sort of difficult to eat with the mask on but he found if he cut it into bite sized chunks it made it easier to eat. He was half finished when she brought his drink. He knew he’d be hungry after this though. He brought out the menu before she left and pointed at something else. She nodded, leaving him to his meal.

The milkshake thing was nearly overwhelmingly vanilla flavor. The blue balls at the bottom were blueberries and there were chunks of… pineapple? in the milkshake. It was a very strange combination. But he actually kinda liked it.

He polished off the sandwich and was sucking on his milkshake thing, which was easy to eat under his mask because of the straw, when the woman brought him the other thing he’d ordered, another, different, sandwich with meat in it. Once he’d finished that he felt much better. He sat there for a while digesting,.

The woman came, took his dirty plates and then came back to see if he wanted anything else. He’d looked at her a few times through the sixth sense. And he hadn’t oblivious to her existence while he’d been here. He knew she was a slave, he wondered what slaves ate. Probably not food like this. He ordered something simple from the menu and gave her the rod back.

When she came back with it he put it in front of the chair across from him. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked him. He just reached out and grabbed her wrist, she froze. She was afraid of him. He pointed at the food, then at her. “What—?” though he knew she understood. He pointed at her again. “I couldn’t.”

Desmond got up, she was average height for a modern human, and Desmond was a head taller than her. He guided her over to the chair and made her sit. She swallowed and looked behind him, proeathans were looking at her. He followed her gaze to some of the workers. He stared every proeathan in the cafe down and they all looked away. He turned back to her and motioned for her to eat.

The woman hesitated a moment more before eating quickly. The house slaves here might get fed and clothed and housed, but their food was clearly not what it could have been. Or maybe it was just this woman who had a shitty proeathan keeper. Regardless if he had the power of a faceless he’d do what he could for the humans in this blasted place.

She finished quickly and wiped her mouth and hands suddenly subconsciously. “Uh… thank you,” and she slid out of the chair, looking around warily. Then she looked back at Desmond. “Thank you,” she said again.

He hugged her and heard a few gasps from other proeathans around the cafe area. “You’re welcome,” he whispered into her ear. When he released her he smiled at her and after fixing the proeathans with another cold stare he left the cafe.


	27. Says the Mockingbird

By the end of the day Desmond had gotten a whole lot of _nothing_ done. He was also super lost. But as Mars had promised someone came and found him during curfew and brought him back to the halls of the faceless. They gave him dinner there, none of them talked to him, or made to talk to him. Looked like he was wearing the correct mask at any rate. Once dinner, which had been salad with fruit and nuts in it weirdly enough, was over he was shown back to his room. Only then did they talk to him, though in some language he had no idea. He didn’t shake his head or nod or anything and eventually they just sighed and left. Desmond went into his sleeping cell after that.

New clothes had been provided to him and now he could investigate his cell a bit more. There was a semi private bathroom that was an odd pentagon shape. Each of the five walls had a door that clearly led to other sleeping cells. In the middle was a central pillar system with two shower boxes, two sinks and two toilets. Everything was separated by wall dividers, and in the case of the toilets doors, so everyone had privacy. Desmond burned to try the doors, but he didn’t.

Eventually he just went back to his cell and removed his outer robe and shoes and laid out on the bed. He was used to sleeping fully clothed at this point so didn’t undress more. Even the gloves didn’t bother him anymore.

He had to find his clone as quickly as possible. Mars could help him, but he had no idea how to get to her if he needed her. And this Kamala guy, who was he? He was clearly the organizer of this entire thing. He wanted to meet him since he was clearly watching Desmond from somewhere.

He was wary of the proeathans claiming to be on his side though. Who knew if they really were. Proeathans lied. He kept having to learn that lesson the hard way. Cain would throw something at him or give him a light smack upside the head for him failing to get this lesson. Thinking about Cain though enraged him. He was stuck here, alone, because of that asshole. He remembered what Cain had said before he’d been knocked out. ‘Where’s Tiamat?’ and that he was going to tell her where Demeter was. Who was Tiamat? He knew she was an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of life and destruction. But who was she in this proeathan soup. He had a feeling he’d need to kill her.

But he had to get his priorities in line first. He should probably learn what had happened to Demeter, if anything. Then locate his clone. _Then_ find Cain and beat his smug face in. Then figure out how to get his clone out of here and get back to Demeter if it was still standing. He’d been out for ten days though. A lot could happen in ten days.

He couldn’t stress about it too much right now though. He needed to focus on one thing at a time.

He went to sleep with a full head.

The next day Desmond spent wandering Apollo after breakfast again. This time though he kept track of where he was via a mental map. For lunch he went to another cafe thing in Apollo, which honestly functioned more like a city itself, or a mall, and was again served by a human. Once he’d finished eating he insisted they eat something too and like the woman yesterday they were hesitant until Desmond pushed them into the seat. The man serving him looked nearly about to weep while he ate. When curfew came around Desmond went back to the faceless quarters and after a bit of extra wandering found where he had to go.

He did the same thing, covering different parts of Apollo over the next three days. No one bothered him, and he didn’t hear from Mars once, and no one came up to him like the first day. He was also a horrible snoop and checked out the cells of the other faceless who shared the bathroom with him. They were all copies of Desmond’s and uninteresting.

On his sixth day awake Desmond woke to someone in his room. At first he thought it was Mars but realized they weren’t _tall_ enough to be Mars. And they were bigger. He pretended to be asleep and just laid where he was, thinking of what he should do.

They let him lay there before they said, “I know you’re awake.” 

Desmond was on his feet in an instant because it was _Cain_. The immortal didn’t even fight him when he slammed him into the wall, hands around his throat. “I should put you Under,” Desmond growled.

“If it’ll make you feel better,” Cain said, his voice tight and strained from Desmond strangling him.

But there was something in Cain now that made him hold back. Cain wasn’t fighting him. He wasn’t mocking Desmond or acting like how he’d expect Cain to act right now. There was no gloating, no easy beat down for Desmond. Cain was just letting Desmond do what he wanted. And if that included murdering him he’d clearly made peace with that.

His hands loosened a bit. Cain still didn’t react. “What the _fuck_ ,” his hands gave Cain’s neck a squeeze, “Cain,” he hissed.

“I needed your reaction to be real,” Cain said, his voice still rather thin. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Really_?” Desmond snapped. “You let me get put back in that fucking _pod_. I lived in one of those for _five years_.”

“I know,” Cain said. “So I won’t blame you if you want to strangle me, or snap my neck.”

“I should,” Desmond growled.

“Or you can wait to kill me once we’re back at Demeter. I’ve heard shooting people in the head is _extremely_ cathartic.”

Desmond looked at Cain, furious, but it was less then it had been. His hands relaxed and he removed them from around Cain’s neck. He took a step back and lifted his mask from his face. “Don’t think I’m not going to kill you. But not now.”

“That’s fine,” Cain said and tugged on his collar and moved from being against the wall.

“Did you tell them where Demeter is?”

Cain scoffed, “What do you take me for?”

“A traitor,” Desmond growled.

“They don’t even know about Demeter,” Cain said.

“But you said-

“I said it in English stupid,” Cain poked him in the chest. “The only person who understood me when I brought you around was you. Like I said, I needed your reaction to be genuine, so they’d believe me when I told them I’d captured you. Cause not for nothing kid, but you’re shit at pretending.” Desmond scowled at him.  “Demeter is safe.”

“Why should I trust you?” he growled, “You lie.”

“Your plan was foolish from the start. You didn’t really even have one. I improvised, and now you have unrestricted access to the entirety of Apollo. No sneaking around, no worried about being found. You’re invisible. I did that. I also arranged for you to get taken out of that pod and this returned to you.” He grabbed Desmond’s right wrist and lifted it, meaning the bracelet.

“No you didn’t. Mars said it was someone else.”

Cain smiled in a ‘this idiot’ sort of way. That made Desmond annoyed. “I’m Kamala,” he said. “And I made all this happen, and got you out of the way for ten days so I could do what needed doing.”

“Which was?”

Cain released his wrist, “The Adjatevs promised me something if I brought you to them. I did. There was no agreement about who got to keep you though.”

“What did they promise you?” Desmond asked.

“That’s my business,” Cain said nicely, but in a mean way.

“Cain,” he growled.

“You can ask all you want, but I’m not going to tell you,” Cain said. “Now Mars told me she has news on your clone. Do you want to go find him still? Or have you enjoyed seeing Apollo?”

Desmond didn’t jump in head first this time. He lingered on the dock looking into the depths where there could be sharks. “Have you been watching me?”

“Yes,” Cain said, “keeping an eye on you so you didn’t get into trouble while Mars hunted down your clone.”

“Why didn’t you ever come an help me?”

“Would you have accepted it?” Cain asked, Desmond said nothing. No, he wouldn’t have. “I also wanted you to _see_ the people you and Demeter hate in a different light. Most of them are just normal people who don’t want you dead. People who are _scared_ of this world just like you.”

“You want me to by sympathetic to them. After what they’ve done, or let happen to us?”

“No,” Cain said. “But I want you to understand that what you do doesn’t just effect the army who’s killing you. Its all these people here, and all the humans here too. Apollo is a contained, nearly self sufficient city. It gets all its energy and water from itself, and food is shipped in-

“From plantations,” Desmond snapped. “They might not be oppressors, but they let it happen.”

“I won’t disagree,” Cain said. “But so were you, once.” Desmond just frowned, confused. “I had history lessons before I left to hunt your friends down four years ago. It was important that I _knew_ what had happened. There were… so many horrible things that happened since I was away. Things I might have been able to prevent, or not last as long. Good things happened too of course. But some things hadn’t changed at all. People who were different, who didn’t belong, carried the world on their backs and people like you benefitted from it.”

“I didn’t,” Desmond said, “I worked my ass off to live.”

“But you worked, and you had your looks going for you. You look like some farm boy from the midwest. Open eyes, will believe what anyone tells you. Light skin, even if it’s on the darker side. You benefitted without knowing. You, and _everyone_ like you weren’t oppressors, but you still let marginalized people be taken advantage of. You let it happen and continue to happen. You aren’t much better than them honestly. I know the system is messed up, its been like that for a very long time. But its there, and you aren’t exempt from it. These proeathans aren’t exempt from it either. But if you’re innocent of it, so are they.”

Desmond didn’t know how to take that. Except that he knew… Cain was right. Fucking Cain was _right_.

“I wanted you to see that,” Cain said, “that for how much I’m sure you _hate_ the proeathans, for very good reasons I might add, that they’re not evil. That they aren’t just this faceless entity looming over the world. Understand?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Good. Now, shall we go see Mars? We should get this done with before Altair has an aneurism with worry.”

Desmond smiled a little at that, “I still don’t really trust you,” he said.

“That’s fine,” Cain said, “But I still trust you,” and Desmond didn’t know what to do with that sudden weight Cain put into his hands. “Now get dressed and we’ll go see Mars.” 


	28. Brewers

Mars’ office was just like how Desmond had seen it last. The only change was that Mars had changed her clothes. She didn’t look surprised to see them either. “Kamala, I see you found him as promised,” she said and almost sounded afraid of Cain.

“Yes,” Cain said and put his hand on Desmond’s head, making him sit. “None too worse for wear than when I left him.” Desmond batted Cain’s hand away angrily and glared at him, Cain just sort of smiled at him. Desmond pulled off his mask. “Time to move into phase two,” he said, sitting next to Cain. “Have you located the clone yet?”

“Yes,” Mars said.

“Then what’s the hold up, lets go,” Desmond said.

“Its not so simple,” Mars said. “The Adjatevs are keeping him with Tiamat.”

“Okay? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Who’s Tiamat?” Desmond asked, looking at the both of them.

“I assume you know who Hera is?” Mars asked, Desmond nodded. “Then you know she was our High Priestess before everything saw an end,” again Desmond nodded. “Tiamat is like that.”

“Oh don’t sugar coat it for the boy,” Cain said. “Tiamat is the oldest living proeathan. No one knows how old she is anymore and she’s not affiliated with any of the eight nations living in Apollo. She’s also a hugely powerful psychic; maybe even more powerful than you,” he said looking at Desmond.

“Is that supposed to intimidate me?” Desmond asked.

“She’s a telepath,” Cain said.

“But you told me telepaths are useless. The mind isn’t linear,” Desmond said.

“This is true,” Cain said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looking at Desmond. “But if the telepath in question also doesn’t use their telepathy in a linear fashion it becomes feasible.”

“Tiamat’s the only one we know who can do that,” Mars said.

“There’s a reason the ancient Sumerians worshiped Tiamat as a goddess of both life and destruction,” Cain said. “When a proeathan gets old enough, their minds change. In most cases they just shut down, destroy themselves. Proeathans don’t die of old age, they die of brain entropy.”

“Tiamat has none does she,” Desmond said.

“Correct. No idea how. What caused it.”

“We think she’s immortal,” Mars said.

Desmond looked skeptically at Cain, “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been that close to her. She broadcasts a psyonic wavelength similar to the Eden that messes with my head. Gives me headaches and nose bleeds just getting in her range.”

“But my clone is with her?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Mars said.

“What’s she do to other people who aren’t Cain?”

“Total psychic silencing,” Mars said. “Proeathans can’t use their sixth sense at all. Worst cases will cause headaches.”

“What about humans? What about my clone?”

“Humans are fine for the most part. They rarely have psyonic abilities-

“Yeah but this is _my clone_. He’s a second _stadalla_ with none of the fun shit included that makes him work properly. But he’s still a genetic replica of me. Meaning he’s a psychic too. What’s going on with him?”

“He seems fine,” Mars said. “Its why they’ve had him tend to her. She doesn’t seem to effect him. Or if she does, not in a harmful way.”

“So then I should be fine?”

“Yes,” Mars said.

“When we first came here,” Desmond said, looking at Cain. “You said tell Tiamat I was here. What was that about?”

Cain shrugged, “Its a saying the proeathans in Apollo have apparently. ‘Tell Tiamat’ is kinda like ‘blow it out your ear’. It means fuck off.”

“What?”

“Someone was talking to me, I told them to go tell Tiamat about Demeter.”

Desmond stared at him then said, “You really are an asshole aren’t you?”

Cain grinned, “Would you have me any other way?”

“Anyway,” Desmond looked back at Mark, “I need to get to my clone. And he’s with Tiamat?”

“Yes,” Mars said. “No one gets close to Tiamat anymore. Apparently once they found out your clone wasn’t effected by her they shoved him in there to care for her. He doesn’t come out.”

“So I need to go in.”

“Yes.”

“How hard is that going to be?”

“Security is tight in the halls and rooms around her. But once inside her psyonic boundary our tech doesn’t work, video doesn’t work at all honestly. They monitor her by infrared. To get you close to her and your clone we’d have to create a blackout across that entire sector of Apollo,” Mars said.

“Huh, shouldn’t be too hard then,” Desmond said.

“Desmond, you don’t understand. We’re talking a huge section of Apollo that Apollo _himself_ personally oversees at all times as not only is it where they keep Tiamat, but its where the Adjatev leaders live,” Mars said.

“No, it still shouldn’t be too bad,” Desmond said.

“Yeah? Then how do you think we’ll do that?” Mars huffed.

Desmond removed one of his gloves, “My clone’s genetically identical to me,” Desmond said, examining his fingers. “But, he’s also nothing like me,” and he made the glyphs on his hand start to glow as well as the ones across his face and the rest of his body but they were hidden by his clothes. The lights in Mars’ office dimmed and started to flicker. “I break technology,” he said, “just show me what I need to touch, I’ll bring the entire city down around its ears,” he grinned, and it wasn’t a nice grin. Mars looked _petrified_ of him. He made the glowing stop and the lights came back up, outside they could hear some proeathans calling to each other in confusion.

“What was that?” Mars asked, her hand in a trembling fist on the table.

“Me,” Desmond said simply, “This is why your people were afraid of me. I’m the end of what you were, and the beginning of what’s coming after. I’ve been here long enough, I need to know where the power station is to Apollo and where Tiamat and my clone are,” he said very calmly, in control. He felt Cain watching him intently.

Mars took a deep, unsteady, breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get you there. It’ll take a day or two though. I don’t know how you’ll get into the power station though. Apollo keeps it locked down.”

“You let us worry about that,” Cain said.

Desmond looked at Cain, “You’re coming?”

“Well it’d be irresponsible to let you go alone. My Abel would never forgive me.”

"He already doesn't like you," Desmond said.

"Yes but I don't need to add fuel to his pitiful little fire now do I?" and Desmond had to admit Cain had a point.

Mars sighed a little, "Fine. I'll find the power station, just stay out of trouble."

"I have been so far," Desmond said.

"Amazingly," Cain said sarcastically.

"What are you going to do when you get to Tiamat?" Mars asked.

"I don't know," Desmond said, "if she's a problem, I'll kill her. Though she's an old lady, how much trouble could she be?"

"And what about your clone?"

“My clone ain't shit," Desmond said firmly. "He has my memories from a year ago. I'm different now. He won't be an issue."

"I hope so. Who knows what's happened to him being with Tiamat," Mars said.

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said," Cain said, "ancient Sumerians worshiped a goddess named Tiamat. Started out as a mother goddess, but the egos of men aren't the only reason she because a goddess of chaos." Power psychics can do all sorts of things.

"And you'd know?" Desmond demanded.

"I've seen you," he said plainly. "You do impossible things. Tiamat is old and powerful, you were born this way, but she has more years on her in learning about the proeathan's abilities than anyone."

"You almost sound like you respect her," Desmond said, narrowing his eyes.

"Who knows," Cain said slowly, “Maybe I wasn't the first. Maybe she's been asleep all this time," and that made Desmond shiver all over, goosebumps going to cover his entire body. That Cain, as ancient and terrible as he was, wasn't the _first_ immortal was a terrible thought. And a proeathan, an actual psychic who had years of training and not just something Desmond played pretend at. But she also might not have been immortal. Just a story the proeathans told. Either way it was scary.

“You just like scaring people don’t you?” Desmond said.

“It has a certain allure to it,” Cain admitted, “I’ve been a boogie man more than once. Primitives are so easy to scare after all.”

“I’m not,” Desmond said.

“Nope,” Cain agreed. He looked back at Mars who seemed confused by their exchange. Clearly she didn’t know about Cain’s immortality. Desmond wondered who did. “You said it’d take a day or two to locate the power station?”

“Yes,” she said. “Getting you into the main power core will be impossible. But the sub station that powers that sector of Apollo where Tiamat and your clone are located will be possible. Though difficult.”

“Again, leave that to us,” Cain said, brushing off her concern.

“Then that’s all I have for now,” she said.

“Okay,” Cain said, and got to his feet with a grunt. “C’mon Desmond, lets let Mars work her magic.”

“And what will we do?” Desmond asked, getting to his feet.

“How’d you like to learn about your enemy?”

“I mean, I’d rather not,” Desmond said, “but I don’t have a choice in this do I?”

Cain grinned, “No, not really,” and he pulled Desmond’s mask down and pushed him out the door where he couldn’t talk or complain. Desmond just scowled at Cain instead and the bastard didn’t even seem to care as he beckoned him towards the lift. He hoped if Tiamat _was_ immortal she wasn’t as fucking annoying as all the other one’s he’d met so far.


	29. Jimmy Crow

Desmond and Cain ended up near, by all things, a playground. It was the first time Desmond had ever seen proeathan children before. Like their parents they were all very easily distinguished from one another by their dress or hair. He looked at Cain accusingly as the immortal sat on a bench for sitters or parents. Desmond knew he had to sit too, so he did.

The playground was indoor and the floor made of foamy mats and everything had rounded edges and padded flat sides. There were things to climb on and things to run through and two slides in the shape of animals Desmond didn’t know but looked like elephants. There were block spinners and the center was a large screen laid into the floor for drawing on. There were at least a dozen children running around in the playground and Desmond was surprised how young they were. Not a one looked older than five.

“The thing about being the savior of the world,” Cain said in Arabic, watching the children, “is that you have to realize that the world is a lot bigger than what’s around you. And saving one set of people doesn’t save them all,” Cain looked at him. Desmond just cocked his head. “No one’s listening,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be weird to speaking like this?” Desmond asked quietly, his voice muffled further by his mask.

“Few people know what the Drell sounded like anymore. And I’m just confessing to a faceless. No one cares.”

“Why are we here?”

Cain looked back at the children, “These children don’t hate you, Pipek. They were born in this new world and are a part of it. When you kill their mothers and fathers and older siblings what happens to them?” Desmond didn’t answer, though he had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to. “Do you kill the orphans too? In centuries past conquering humans would kill all boys when they finished their plundering. Stave off the resistance for another forty years at least as they wiped out a generation of dissenters. Will you do that?”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Desmond said.

Cain looked at him sharply, “That wasn’t the question. If you win, what happens to those who opposed you? Do you kill the children? Or do you risk the next generation hating you for destroying their lives? They’ll grow up on their parents telling them stories of the monstrous man who killed their fathers or mothers, or aunts and uncles.”

There was no answer. Either answer was a loose. Desmond was smart enough to know that. Cain accepted his silence as understanding. “Its important that you don’t just rush into something,” he said. “Or you create a lot more orphans. The current generation of proeathans have a shorter life span than the ones before. Cryostasis ruins the body. You kill it basically, but keep the brain and heart in as low power as it can go. But you’re basically dead. Its tough to wake up from that because death is the natural state of all things. In a few decades all these proeathan you see here will be dead. 

“So its important to plan, and plan each step you make precisely. Running into things head first is how you get everyone dead. How you get yourself dead,” Cain said, glancing at him. “With me so far?” Desmond nodded. “Being the savior is a big deal. Because you can’t just save some little group of people who you’re invested in,” Desmond gave him a stern look.

“The future the proeathans set out for you and why you were born was to deliver the world into their hands. In their eyes that would be saving it. But the thing about being the savior of the world is that once you’ve got that designation, you can’t just shake it. It stays with you. Especially since somewhere, somehow, to _someone_ the world needs saving. So how do you save them all?”

“Can I?” Desmond asked in nearly a whisper.

“I don’t know,” he looked at Desmond. “Do you want to? Because you’re savior of the world, and these people here? They’re part of that world too. Do you save them too?”

“They’ve enslaved my species… _twice_ ,” Desmond said.

“And you’ve enslaved each other thousands of times for a thousand reasons. Fathers sell their preteen daughters to men in their forties to be their wives and sex slaves. People work in factories day and night with only a few dollars for pay and sleep in the cellar aren’t so uncommon. The African slave trade to the Americas. The Nordic slaves of northern Europe. Serfs to their lords. People who work five jobs just to barely scrape together a living and keep a roof over their heads. Immigrants who hold nations up on their backs and are told they’re ruining a country when; without them, there wouldn’t even be one,” Cain didn’t even sound riled up. He was perfectly calm and rational in his speaking and logic. “I wasn’t around for a hundred years, but I know it still happened, in a hundred different ways in a hundred countries both still around and long since dead. You know how?” Desmond shook his head. “Because this has been happening since I was a boy,” and Desmond got goosebumps. “Humans are slaves to themselves, and have been for thousands of years. Slaves to coin and government and society. If you want to hate the proeathans you’ll have to come up with a better reason than ‘they enslaved humans’.”

Desmond just sat there. He didn’t say anything and Cain asked nothing of him. He was thinking. They watched the children play, running and chasing each other, sometimes screaming, laughing and smiling, none of them had a care in the world. Watching them Desmond saw little difference between them and human children. They also didn’t seem to care about their ethnic differences, they played with whoever they wanted. Race didn’t matter to children. He thought of the kids back at Demeter, and the Seed Bank in Russia.

Cain was right about one thing. These were the people he needed to be worrying about saving. The adults didn’t matter anymore. In a few decades the previous generation that remembered this would be gone. Humans that remembered the world before this shit were already a dying breed, and they’d never get any bigger than they were at that second. And these kids, human and proeathan, would have to figure it out. Atlantis would kill a lot on both sides. What was important was getting children from both sides together. If they could become friends that’d go a long way to mend the pain between their people.

“I can’t save them all,” Desmond said after several minutes of thinking. “And I don’t want to. The old way needs to die. I don’t want to save it.”

“Then what will you save?”

Desmond’s eyes tracked a proeathan girl chasing a boy. The girl wore all black, the boy in red and orange. She tackled him and yelled triumphantly, then she jumped up and the boy started to chase her. There were children climbing an animal Desmond didn’t know, but it was a huge bird-like creature, helping each other get up on it and then they’d jump off the head down into a pile of foam blocks. Under a piece of equipment that looked like a log a pair of proeathan children from different nations sat huddled together looking at what looked like a tablet of some sort, playing with it, together.

“I’ll save this,” Desmond said and looked at Cain, “Savior of the world can’t save the past.”

“No, he can’t,” Cain said and by his tone Desmond knew he’d said what Cain had hoped he’d say. He’d taken in whatever lesson Cain had been giving out and and knew it. He wasn’t a monster. He didn’t want what was here to suffer for his own people. They were children. They had no idea. They didn’t know any better.

“C’mon,” Cain said and made to get up.

“Wait,” Desmond said.

“Hmm?”

“Can we stay a bit longer?”

Cain rose his brows at him, “Yeah, we can,” and Cain settled back down. “But we need to plan for Tiamat. And _really_ make a plan. Not just jump in feet first.”

“In a bit,” Desmond said. He knew why Lucy spent so much time in the nursery now. He’d never thought of children. Or if he had it had been in the same thought of how he’d never have any. He never stayed anywhere long enough to form those sorts of relationships with people. But he knew his life would probably end shortly. He honestly didn’t know if he’d make it out of Atlantis alive. He’d never have kids. Neither would Lucy. But there was something about knowing the date of the end of your life that made you yearn anyway, even though you knew it’d never happen. 

For a moment Desmond wanted more than anything to see the other side of Atlantis. Hadn’t mattered before. Lucy didn’t love him, and he was too emotionally crippled and compromised to want anyone else. Pipe dreams and all that. But right then he wanted to see through. Just to see what would happen when the the new humans from the seed banks finally grew up and had to deal with the proeathans who’d grown up after their second apocalypse.

The feeling passed and Desmond just felt empty on the inside. So very empty. It didn’t matter. The woman he loved didn’t love him anymore. He didn’t want another. Like he said: pipe dreams.

“Lets go,” Desmond said hollowly. Cain just got up and Desmond followed him.


	30. The Wind Doesn't Care

Having a guide around Apollo was different than just wandering around it. What had confused Desmond Cain explained. Like who everyone was and what they were doing. Most of the proeathans who lived here were citizens, meaning they worked jobs that humans had before their fall. Things like: teachers, cooks, clothes designers, daycare attendants, doctors, hair dressers, and police. But they were all middle class duties. The ones doing the lower work like the cleaning and servicing and waste removal fell to the human slaves kept in Apollo. And Desmond noticed them more than anything.

When the day was done Cain returned with Desmond back to the halls of the faceless. Desmond hadn’t said a lot all day, just followed Cain around, looking at everything there was to see.

He threw his mask off when he was inside. “Should I feel all this is pointless?” he asked, yanking off his outer robe as well.

“Depends, which part do you feel is pointless?”

“This fighting.”

“Yes, you should because it is,” Cain said, sitting on the chair. “War is a pointless endeavor created by a species who’s become too comfortable. Before ‘modern’ civilization humans didn’t go to war. They were too busy surviving. But once you can survive and you no longer need to hunt? Well, you must appease all those hunters somehow, and satisfy that greed that comes with complacence. The desire for more once you have something. More land, more money, more power. War was created by those with a lot, to get more.”

“But fighting’s a part of our culture,” Desmond said, frowning.

Cain leaned back and looked at Desmond as he sat on his bed. “When I was a boy,” Cain started, “I lived in a place where there was no war. No fighting. Yes we fought to defend ourselves sometimes from animals or maybe some bandits, but we didn’t make war. I didn’t know what a sword even _was_ until my father showed me one when I was much older.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Hmmm, I don’t remember really. Been such a long time. Before Jesus, before Rome,” he seemed to be thinking. “I remember meeting Cleopatra if that helps? Beautiful woman,” he sort of sighed, “shame the way she went out,” he grimaced.

“You’re impossible,” was Desmond’s exasperated reply.

“Takes one to know one,” Cain said with a grin. “But back to the original point; yes, this war is pointless.”

Desmond sighed and put his head in his hands. “And how am I supposed to stop it?”

“I don’t know,” Cain said, “you’ll have to figure it out.”

“Great,” Desmond groaned.

“Just take it one step at a time. One thing wrong with how the Assassins teach, with how Abel teaches, is that they want you to do everything all at once. But you never end up getting anything done that was. Plan six steps ahead and anticipate every move. That doesn’t work here. Not for saving an entire world and two races.”

Desmond sighed and laid back, staring at the ceiling. “So I’m guessing step one would be getting to Tiamat, and how we’re going to do that.”

“Yes.”

“Apollo won’t be a problem.”

“No?”

“No,” Desmond said. “He can’t disobey me. I could summon him right now and tell him I’m here and tell him I forbade him from making even the slightest hint that I’m here, and he couldn’t do anything. He might want to, but he couldn’t. The AI are mine.”

“Then the Adjatev Chancellor and his cabinet will be the ones we need to worry about,” Cain said. “They’ll shut down the sector of Apollo the sub station controls.”

“Even at low power the AI have control over their bases,” Desmond said, “if need be I could just have Apollo open the doors.”

“And let them know exactly where we are? They won’t need an AI to see doors opening that shouldn’t be opening.”

“So then what?” Desmond asked.

Cain got up and when he put out his hand Desmond gave him his. Cain pushed the sleeve up, “Glow,” he said. Desmond did so.

“You aren’t going to threaten to break my arm again are you?” Desmond asked.

“I might,” Cain said. “What’s it feel like?”

“What? The glow?”

“Yes,” Cain said.

“Well I mean… like nothing really,” Desmond said awkwardly. “It isn’t like when I use a _sikaz_ or Eagle Vision. I have to think about that. But this is like breathing.”

“But even breathing feels like something,” Cain tapped the underside of Desmond’s arm. “Now answer the question correctly this time,” and Desmond swallowed a little.

“You know how your tongue can’t sit comfortably in your mouth?” Desmond asked, Cain made a ‘hmmm’ as his reply. “But it feels natural all the same. That’s what it feels like.”

“Just this one,” Cain pressed his index finger to one of the glyphs. Desmond looked up at him then made it go dark. Like the last time it took him a few tries then the one Cain wanted glowed on its own.

“What?” Desmond asked when Cain made an interested noise.

“This is what you need to do when we get you to that sub station,” Cain said. “I’ve seen you make entire sections of Demeter flicker from turning on and off. You having two states of being. On, and off, like a faucet, but its uncontrolled and wild. But this is control,” Cain tapped the glowing mark. “You need to have that control when you shut down that sub station. Doing otherwise would lead you to overloading the entire system and you’d shut Apollo down completely.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” Desmond asked.

“Maybe,” Cain said. “But didn’t we agree just this morning that you want to kill the old way? You need to be that first step. You can’t suffocate what’s to come by burning what’s been. They’ll choke on the smoke. If you really want to do what you say you do, you need to start here. Punish those who deserve it, not the innocent. Isn’t that what you Assassins say?”

“Something like that,” Desmond said.

“You need to _only_ shut down the area where the Chancellor and his cabinet stay. Or better yet, the halls around Tiamat. If you isolate the problem to as small an area as possible they won’t react so harshly.”

“They’ll be more likely to send a repair man to go fix it than to lock the entire place down,” Desmond said.

“Yes,” Cain said.

“I think I can do that,” he said slowly, he tugged his arm from Cain’s hand and pulled the sleeve back down. “What if I mess up?”

“I always like to think that mistakes won’t happen,” Cain said.

“So don’t plan for one?” Desmond asked incredulously.

“Having a backup plan means you’re anticipating failure. But, this is you so I think I’ll make an exception this once.”

“You’re so good with that whole confidence thing,” Desmond said through clenched teeth.

“If you don’t have confidence in yourself, how do you expect others to?” Cain asked him.

“You know if I wanted fortune cookie answers I’m pretty sure I could still find some in old chinese restaurants,” Desmond said, giving him a look.

Cain chuckled, “So you fail. What is a failure here?”

“I get caught?”

“I won’t let them take you again. They had two chances, and twice they let you get taken,” Cain clearly wasn’t impressed.

“Then I overload the system,” Desmond said. “What if I mess up like that?”

“Then just restart the system,” Cain said. “The bases were asleep for millennia before you woke them up. How did you do that?”

Desmond hesitated a moment, “My blood.”

“Then you can restart the base from the ground up the same way,” Cain said. “You’re a faucet, just turn it on and off.”

“Right,” Desmond said.

“Don’t worry, you won’t mess up,” Cain rested a hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

“You say that now.”

“You perform better under pressure. Most people crumble under it, few rise up to face it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Desmond huffed, brushing Cain’s hand off his shoulder.

“I mean it,” Cain said. Desmond looked up at him and then looked away again. Few times if ever did anyone actually ever just… trust him. And here Cain was doing just that. Not even Altair trusted Desmond. He always had to step in, to make sure Desmond didn’t screw up. Or he just refused to back down, refused to let Desmond _do it_. No one ever just… let him do something.

“Right,” Desmond still didn’t look at him. “How long do you think it’ll take Mars to find the sub station?”

“She already found it.”

“What? Then why didn’t we go already?”

“Because you had no _plan_ ,” Cain said. “Like what you’re going to do once you get in there, or how you’re going to get your clone out.” Desmond hunched a bit, “You were just going to try and wing it weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. Cain flicked him on the head. Desmond glowered at him.

“Think about it tonight. This is important Desmond.”

“I know that,” Desmond growled.

“If you _know_ then why do I have to tell you?” Cain asked, Desmond had no answer for that. He just sulked a bit. “Savior of the world means he has a _plan_.”

“Okay okay I get it fuck off,” and then Cain gave him a light smack on the head.

“Don’t swear,” he said.

“Uhg! What are you? My dad?”

Cain gave him a hard look, “Not like you don’t need one. Your birth one failed you and Altair’s done a miserable job at it as well. No one holds you accountable for anything, least of all being a half way decent son or leader; so now I am.” And Desmond looked down, he didn’t know how to take that. “You’re a kid and you need to grow up, but you won’t so I’m making you. And grown ups know how to speak without sounding like dogs.” Desmond glared at him. “Glare at me all you want. I’m not impressed in the slightest.”

“I hate you,” he said.

“No you don’t. Now think about what you’re going to do tomorrow. If its good we’ll go through with it.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Well you don’t know where the sub station is and you can’t get to Mars without me,” Desmond glared at him more.

“You’re a right prick,” Desmond said.

“When I need to be,” Cain said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right, good night,” Desmond grumbled and glared after Cain as he walked out.


	31. One Breath

It took Desmond three days to come up with a plan. At least a plan Cain thought was good enough. Three days. He’d been gone two weeks by now, he could only imagine that the others were freaking out. But he knew Demeter would never let them out. He’d said the ark was in lockdown, no one in, no one out, without his permission. So they had no way to get to the surface. There was nothing they could do or come get him. Desmond would’t be leaving without his clone and Cain wouldn’t let him near Tiamat to get him without a plan. A full plan, including how to get his clone _out_ of Apollo.

Desmond was sitting on his bed, wearing the red of a Netall. A deeply red long sleeved turtle neck and pants. The sweatshirt had a hood attached to it as he’d requested, since he’d be going mask less tonight. The doors were locked and he had his eyes closed. But despite his eyes being shut he could see. The ‘third eye’ was a type of _sikaz_ used most prominently by the Ellderi people- the proeathan nation Desmond recognized for their black and white patterned clothes and intricate braids in their hair that dripped with glass beads, flowers and ribbons- and was quite literally the ability to see _through_ things. 

Though ‘through’ was a subjective term and so was ‘things’. What was a thing? A material object? What if you classified a thing as the connection between atoms? The energy of the universe was a thing. Then you could see through to things that were normally unseen, unknown. He could use the third eye he’d opened to see clear across Apollo and see the atomic structure of things as ghostly shadows as he was just seeing the energy and at an atomic level material things appeared as shadows at dusk. If he wanted he could then use another _sikaz_ to throw his mind and eyes towards a distant point and view it up close. Because the mind was like an engine, and learning _sikaz_ was, for Desmond’s, tuning it. He knew that an Ellderin could use the third eye in more subtle ways than him, but for Desmond it served its purpose.

An actual practical use of a third eye was to diagnose bodily maladies. With it you could see tumors, body hemorrhaging and clots, all without ever making a cut. It was also see the lay lines of the proeathan or human body with the third eye. The weird psionic energy all living things resonated at. It was good to help with hunting, or playing hide and seek, or seeing through solid walls and could even penetrate lead which many wavelengths could not. Usually the third eye was focused outwards, to offer the proeathan a better, bigger, picture, of the world around them. Mostly it was used to promote a proeathan to an advantage, or to help others. Desmond had been told by the Ellderin sympathizer who’d taught him this that the third eye was known as the selfless _sikaz_ , because it was rarely used on the self.

But Desmond was a selfish bastard sometimes. His third eye was focused on himself. With it he peeled back his skin and flesh and bones and organs till he was left with just the impression of the energy that swirled around and within him. The energy pressed outwards against his skin in the form of the glyphs, but they were like solar storms. Where the glyphs were formed was just the leading edge of the storm of psionic energy that flowed through Desmond’s body like blood, swirling and twisting into knots and yarn balls shaped like his organs.

He’d looked at proeathans and humans alike in this third eye vision, to see if they looked like him. The Ellderin who’d taught him had been made of thick, orderly, ropes of energy, though he himself couldn’t peel back that many layers to see the on that level. Cain had looked like a sun, painful to stare at for too long, and even now Desmond could see him and another out of the ‘corner of his eye’ as he looked at himself. Other proeathans had been more or less orderly or twisted, with children somehow seeming the brightest. Humans appeared as little quivering strands of barely held together light, like overladen spider webs after a long rain. Some had little knots of energy clinging to the end of fingertips or deep in their guts but they all looked like they could be blown over and ripped apart by a strong wind.

Desmond knew he was a sun like Cain and the other, who he could only imagine was Tiamat, because the Ellderin had seemed afraid. As with everything he was _Desmond_ was not natural. He was something different and new and it frightened the proeathans because they couldn’t explain _why_ he was the way he was. It seemed no one had the answer for Desmond of just what he was and why he was or why he had a map carved into his flesh that no had known how to read at first.

Desmond was working on his control. Turning parts of him on and off and watching what it looked like from the inside out, since the third eye seemed to be projected in front him like someone sitting across from him, he could see exactly what was going on. When he made the glyphs glow the energy pushed outwards against the thin membrane of skin holding it all together, arching up away from the chaotic knots and twists like solar flares, pressing against his skin and then following the curve back down into the rest of the energy.

Honestly he had very little idea of just _what_ he was looking at. It had been a crash course to say the least and the proeathan who they’d gotten to show him how to do it had scoffed at him even being able to do it in the first place. Then Cain had rattled off all the _other_ things he could do: dark and night vision, dream sharing, prophecy, empathy, future sight (which was different than prophecy and was what the Ilythians used to see a few seconds into the absolute future of a few seconds where prophecy relied heavily on the potential future of days or months or even years in the future), tracking, thread seeing, centerfold sight, and something Cain called _lederu_ (whatever those last three even were, honestly Desmond wasn’t even sure), and the proeathan had very nearly shit a brick. Needless to say he’d shown Desmond how to open his third eye after that since Desmond had wanted to see _exactly_ what was going on with his body without going into a machine of some sort.

With this sight he could see what was going on, and yeah he didn’t quite know _what_ it was, this psionic energy or whatever, but he could understand the visual representation of it. It let him see and isolate exactly what it was doing inside him because now he could _see_ what was going on in there. He was doing what Cain had told him to do; he was learning control. Sometimes the glyphs would come on at random, glow softly before dying back down. Desmond had been at this for two days, not leaving his room even to eat. And like a lot of things involving his physical body he was a natural at it. He knew that he’d only get better with time and that honestly he wasn’t doing much, but for two days of self training he was doing fantastically. 

He liked watching the energy arc up to his skin, stop as it met a wall, and then fall back down. There was something calming about watching it and about his ability to control his own body. Before Abstergo Desmond had had full control and say over his body and it obeyed his every demand. He could run forever and was strong and tall and could fight and was flexible and whatever he needed it to do it could do. 

Even though he’d left the Farm he’d found a sort of meditative zen in working out, in running and in going through fighting forms, like it was what he was meant to do. Then when Abstergo had captured him he’d lost the right to his own body. He’d laid down in the Animus for days at a time, weeks even both under Abstergo, and under the Assassins. Racing towards that golden light they thought would be an end. An end to their petty fighting. An end to human autonomy. All it was was the end of Desmond’s control over his own body. At least in Abstergo he’d done it out of self preservation. But with the Assassins? Out of guilt. Guilt that he’d left that life behind, and that if he didn’t do _something_ the world could burn. He’d run from that guilt and those feelings for ten years before they’d caught up with him in Rome. Then he’d slept his way through Ezio’s life and when he finally _did_ find that shiny mcguffin at the end of the road he’d really been robbed of any free will.

The deep sleep of his coma had been a terror to him he’d never really voiced to anyone about. He hadn’t _wanted_ to go comatose. He’d wanted to wake up, make sure Lucy was okay, make sure Shaun and Rebecca were okay. Then he’d heard like a whisper in the wind that she was dead. And waking was no better. The Assassins were just as bad, just as corrupt.

When he’d met his ancestors he’d lived by their schedule. Wake with the sun, asleep no later than ten pm, breakfast and then training until you were sore then lunch. More training. At least the zen had come back during the training. But he’d never wanted it. He’d just wanted his life back. He’d just wanted the use of his body for personal use _back_.

Five years later and he was only starting to get his own body back under his control. No one commanded him. Not Altair, not Cain, not Lucy or Andrew or Shaun: no one. Just him.

The _sikaz_ went a long way in making him feel _in_ _control_. That he could manipulate his body and energy so freely was a big deal. No one could do this to him, just him. What Pluto had done to stabilize the placement was just making them orderly and linked to like proteins and acids on a cellular level or something. He really should have been paying closer attention when Pluto had explained that stuff. This was why he let guys like Hawk think about this sort of thing. He was useless at it. But oh you need someone to do something impossible? Desmond was that guy.

Desmond closed his third eye as the sun that was Cain came started to grow brighter and closer in his peripheral. But he kept his eyes closed until there was a knock on the door.

Desmond slid off the bed like he was a fluid and opened the door. The hall behind Cain was dark, it was late in Apollo. They were doing this at night and no one would see them do it. Desmond could turn off cameras that might see them and Cain had a very difficult to learn _sikaz_ that had apparently been common for the Drell and it was _literally_ a Jedi mind trick. “Ready to go?” Cain asked, he was dressed all in black like a Numm proeathan- the creepy ones that wore all black and had the bulging eyes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Desmond said pulling up his hood and leaving his room.


	32. Tweedle Dee

Being in Apollo at night was creepy. It was like how schools were creepy at night. Usually they were so full of noise and people so when they were empty and silent it felt like a crypt. Desmond walked a few steps behind Cain, their footsteps the only sound in large hall they were walking through. They saw no one, not even a slave.

They’d left the halls of the faceless behind and had entered the area of the Adjatevs. Their living quarters were much grander and larger than the other nations. Though Desmond didn’t see why they wouldn’t be. The Adjatevs ruled, and they got the best of everything. It was in this area that the Adjatev Chancellor and their cabinet resided and ruled from.

“Its creepy,” Desmond said, his voice sounding loud in the empty halls.

“Lifeless places tend to be,” Cain said.

“You know where we’re going?” he dropped down to nearly a whisper, feeling strange to be so loud in such quiet.

“Yes,” Cain’s volume didn’t change at all. “There will be proeathans in this substation. Don’t forget your plan.”

“Its my plan, I don’t think I can forget it,” Desmond said quietly and rolled his eyes.

Cain stopped at an intersection, “There are cameras here now,” he said.

“I got it,” and Desmond opened his third eye a crack, enough to peel back some of the walls around him and show him the twisted, wiry, electricity that swarmed around the cameras like an angry scribble. They were on either side of the intersection, pointing down both hallways, but away from Cain and Desmond. Under normal sight they were invisible, like Eden Eyes but nothing was invisible for someone who could open their third eye.

“Or not,” Desmond said, looking at the cameras. The ceilings were sixteen feet tall and Desmond couldn’t jump that high.

“What?” Cain asked.

“They’re on the ceiling,” he frowned. “I thought you said cameras were attached to corners,” he gave Cain a stern look.

“Contrary to popular belief I _do not_ know everything alright?” Cain huffed.

“So how do we reach the cameras? I can’t jump and I need to touch something to lock it down.”

“Really?”

Desmond scowled at him, “Yes really. This isn’t just ‘I don’t know my own capabilities’, its literally impossible.”

Cain looked at him, “Maybe now it is. Who knows what you’ll be able to do with more training. But yes, for now, it is impossible.”

“So how do you expect me to touch it?”

“I could lift you up,” Cain said, “Between the two of us we could reach it.” Desmond stared at him. “What?”

“That’s your solution? I stand on your shoulders?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I expected you to have a more elegant idea on how to deal with it.”

“I could throw you-

“No lets not,” and that made Cain chuckle.

Cain leaned down a bit and offered Desmond a stirrup made of his interlocked hands, “C’mon, lets get this done with. You need to disable the left facing camera.”

“Right,” Desmond said and stepped up into Cain’s hands and put his hand on Cain’s shoulder as the immortal lifted him.  Desmond reached but the ceiling was still out of reach by a foot or so and Desmond was holding onto Cain’s head to not fall. “Higher,” Desmond said, straining to reach.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Desmond.”

“About as far as I can throw you.”

“How kind,” he felt Cain’s grip on his ankle change and gave Desmond those extra few inches he needed. He braced one hand on the ceiling to steady them and pressed his naked hand to the camera. Through his third eye he could see the electricity sputter and die as energy arced out from Desmond and fried the internal systems.

“Got it!” Desmond said softly.

With a grunt Cain lowered him before dropping him at about chest level. “You aren’t nearly as light as you look.”

“So I’ve been told,” Desmond grumbled. He still hadn’t really gotten over the fat comments Shaun had spit at him six years ago. He was kinda self conscious about his weight and looks. Though usually the good thoughts outweighed the bad.

Cain beckoned and Desmond followed him down the hall. There were a few more cameras, Desmond dealt with all of them, though a few he needed a boost up from Cain to get. They didn’t meet anyone till they came to the final corner and there were a few proeathans standing outside it, talking and keeping guard; the substation.

“So you going to do your Jedi mind trick thing?” Desmond asked.

“My what trick?”

“Jedi,” Desmond said, Cain kept giving him a blank, confused, look. “Right… you wouldn’t know what Star Wars is,” he said slowly.

“What?” Cain said.

“ _Never mind_. You going to do the Drell _sikaz_ thing or what?”

“Yes,” Cain said slowly. He obviously wanted to ask Desmond what Star Wars and Jedi were but refrained. Instead he just gave Desmond a look and walked around the corner and down the hall to the guards. They said something in some language Desmond didn’t know and Cain said something. Desmond leaned around the corner to see what was going on, it wasn’t much, just Cain standing in front of the guards, talking to them. 

Then Cain turned and looked down the hall at Desmond, his eyes blue. After seeing Cain with yellow eyes for a few days, so soft and dull, Desmond had forgotten how terrifying Cain looked when in the sixth sense. For a second they looked like they were smoking. Cain motioned to him and Desmond came forward. “So they’re good guys?” he asked cautiously, looking at the guards.

“In a sense,” and Cain shepherded Desmond into the substation.

The substation was a room barely bigger than a closet, all the walls covered in lights and monitors and gauges and switches of some sort or another. Desmond had no idea where to start and he couldn’t read any of the gauges. “So, now what?” his plan got them into the substation, but he’d never been in one and Cain accepted that he’d have to guide Desmond through this part of the plan.

“Most of these switches turn off larger sections of Apollo the sub station controls,” Cain said. “We need to turn off only a few halls.”

“Right,” Desmond said, “Where do I start?”

“Mmm,” Cain started looking around. “These here, they’re power overrides,” he pointed to a series of buttons. “They won’t shut the system down, but it will allow you to short out the backup systems designed to keep the substation up.”

“Okay,” Desmond pressed each button with glowing fingertips. The buttons lit up as he did so and then faded, the substation went dark except for some blinking lights and then the place was bathed in yellow light. “Cain,” he said warily, it reminded him of the Eden.

“Backup power for proeathans is yellow,” Cain said reassuringly, “they see best in yellow light since it most accurately represents the sun.”

“Okay,” Desmond said even as he swallowed.

“This screen will let you control the substation,” Cain said, prodding him a step over to a black screen. Desmond looked around for some sort of input mechanism like a keyboard or a mouse. There was none. He ended up just touching it. The screen shimmered on. Text crawled across the bottom in some proeathan language he didn’t know.

“What’s it say?”

“Nothing important,” Cain said. “Focus,” he said firmly.

Right, focus. Focus on what? He ended up closing his eyes and extended himself, opening his third eye (though doing so away from Cain to not be blinded) to see clearly. He saw the electrical signals coursing through the machine and where his fingers touched the screen it was like a plasma globe, strands of light and energy coiling around where Desmond touched.

He drew his finger across the screen, it left a trail of light on the glass surface and the screen itself lit up. He didn’t know what he was looking at but it looked like a flow chart of some sort nodes connected to each other through colored lines. He closed his third eye somewhat the layers of the world folding back into place where they should have been giving him a more solid image of the world and not one made of strands and energy. Each of the nodes was labeled.

“Which one do I need?” Desmond asked Cain, closing his third eye when he looked at the immortal to not be blinded or stunned.

“This one,” Cain pointed but didn’t touch the screen. “There is no way to turn it off from the terminal. You need to find where the power is going to and turn it off manually.”

“Great,” Desmond said, now came the hard part: how to figure out just _where_ that node was connected to. “Will you step back? You’re kinda hard to look at,” Desmond said. Cain stepped back to lean against the door, “Thanks.”

Desmond opened his third eye again but didn’t know how much good it’d do. He had no idea how to find out what this went to or even how to go about it in the first place. He went through different layers of existence, peeling back reality like onion skin, and then putting it back over top. He sort of guessed he needed to find the _right_ amount of transparency, but didn’t know how much. He struggled with it for several minutes and after that just wanted to slam his fist into something. He didn’t though and instead just growled to himself at his inability.

“Don’t get angry,” Cain’s voice drifted over to him from the door. “Just work through it. Its the dead of night, no one’s coming yet.”

Desmond took a deep breath to calm himself. It only sort of worked. He placed reality back where it belonged across his vision and looked at the terminal. Maybe he could do something with what he had. He tapped the screen to see what would happen. The node got a glowy outline but otherwise did nothing. He opened his third eye and peeled back layers of the substation till he was seeing the guts of the machines. He tapped at the node a few more times and saw a pulse of energy shoot off from the main board to somewhere else in the substation.

“I need your help,” Desmond said and beckoned to Cain. “I need you to keep tapping the node so I can follow the track,” he said before Cain could say otherwise. He kept his back to Cain as he stepped up to the terminal, to minimize the light radiation he could see even just a few layers deep.

“Alright,” Cain said and he heard the soft tapping of Cain’s finger on the screen. Desmond looked at the machinery and started to track the energy pulses with his eyes and this his head. It was slow going because the energy was traveling at the speed of light and nearly impossible to see. It made Desmond wonder if there was a _sikaz_ that could make the mind perceive a slowing of time. He could see how that could be helpful.

Desmond ended up following the track a few feet away and he closed his third eye to show no switches or buttons, only a gauge and a few level emitters. “This is it,” he said. He put his hand on one of the level emitters and did what he’d been practicing. The substation lights started to freak out, the yellow light going on and off, sometimes flickering to red for an instant, or back to white light, then back to yellow. The lights in the machines flickered on and off, the screen went dark. Desmond focused on just the one part he wanted. Just the one piece that would make what he wanted to happen happen.

The lights turned back to yellow and stayed on, the machines resumed at their normal condition. The only lights in the substation that were off were the ones around Desmond’s hand.

“The node’s dark,” Cain said and Desmond looked at the screen, the node he’d needed had turned a dark gray color. “That area has no power. The rest of the sub area might have experienced some power fluctuation but you did it,” Cain smiled at him.

“I did,” Desmond agreed.

“I knew you could. Now lets go find Tiamat,” and Cain went to the door and opened it. He said something to the guards, his eyes going blue for a few moments, then he beckoned Desmond out.

“What is that anyway? Can you teach me to do that?” Desmond asked as the door closed behind them and he followed Cain down the hall to their next destination: Tiamat’s quarters.

“My father called it _hodori_. It means force of will,” Cain said, “that’s all it is, projecting your will onto others, making them submissive.”

“Sounds like an Apple,” Desmond said.

“Many angelic vessels are based off the _sikaz_ ,” Cain said. “Some never took off, but _hodori_ was too powerful for them to not try to transfer it into a vessel. Between it and the Eden humans have little hope of ever resisting.”

“But they did,” Desmond said.

“Yes,” Cain said, “when their will for freedom became greater than the proeathan will to keep them enslaved.”

“Can you teach me?”

Cain gave him a long look, thinking. “One day perhaps. The Drell did not always willingly share how to perform _hodori_. As you can imagine it can have disastrous outcomes if the wrong people knew how to use it.”

“Someone taught you,” Desmond pointed out.

“Yes, but I was grown when I learned.”

“I’m grown,” Desmond said.

Cain looked back at him with a slight grin, “Sure you are. Now its just down here,” and he led Desmond around a corner to a hall where the lights were all out. “You’ll have to go alone from here,” Cain said. “I can’t get near her,” even as he spoke his nose started to drip blood.

“Why does she do that to you?”

“No idea,” Cain said as he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and put it up to his nose to soak up the blood. “I’ll be waiting here for you when you come out.”

“I won’t be back till I can bring my clone.”

“I know,” Cain said, “if you’re gone too long I’ll tell the Adjatevs where you are. If nothing else they’ll get you out of there since I can’t,” and he could see it sort of hurt Cain’s pride to admit that.

“You wouldn’t let them take me?”

Cain put his hand on Desmond’s shoulder, though it seemed silly with Cain holding a blood filled rag up to his nose. “Americans like to believe in the three strikes system,” he said, “For me when you do something bad; you get one more chance. They had it, they failed. You’re mine now, I won’t let them take you again.”

Desmond swallowed as he nodded and then stepped out from Cain’s hand and headed down the unlit hall towards Tiamat.


	33. Mother Hen

The further Desmond went down the hall, further away from the lit halls, the darker it became. Desmond had excellent night vision, but it didn’t seem to help. He went into his dark vision and that helped a bit, but not as much as he thought it would. The darkness was like the bottom of the ocean here, and pressed in at him from all sides. But where it might terrifying others it didn’t him. Desmond did not balk to the darkness, but pushed through it. He felt a warm, tingly, sensation on his skin the further he got, like he was suspended in water. It made him want to sit, and rest, to sleep and never wake up. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way that he felt so calm and safe he didn’t want to move. His footsteps slowed, but he didn’t stop moving.

He was so distracted by the darkness that he wasn’t paying attention and ran right into a wall. The illusion shattered and the warm feeling left him. He could see better now, and though a veil had been lifted. Desmond realized that the darkness wasn’t that dark and when he turned around he could still see Cain not even a hundred feet away, though standing well in the light, watching, his hand up to his face to stem the blood. It had felt like he’d walked the length of a football field but it had barely been that at all and light leeched into the darkness from the hall beyond.

Tiamat had made him think it was darker and longer and warmer than it really had been.

He turned back around and saw that he was in front of a door. He tried it, locked. He forced it, his hand glowing cyan for a moment, and the knob twisted, the door opened inwards.

Desmond stepped into a lit room. Though the light didn’t travel past the doorframe. “Close the door deary, you’ll let in a draft,” a voice said. Desmond closed the door slowly as he looked around.

The room was large, and like a library, but not a stuffy one. There were huge windows everywhere that let sunlight stream in through gossamer curtains, a gentle breeze came through some of them, disturbing the curtains slightly. Bookshelves lined the walls and on every available flat surface across seventeen tables were stacks and stacks of yet more books. He could smell coffee being brewed along with freshly baked cookies and bread. In front of him was a circular table which was set out with a tray laden with sweets and little finger sandwiches. There was also an elegant tea set on the table, as well as more books. There were two chairs sitting at the table, but they were both empty.

“Hello?” he asked, “Tiamat?”

“Just a moment deary,” said the woman’s voice and Desmond stayed where he was, but was ready. He knew this was an illusion, some projection into his mind. He hadn’t realized a telepath would be quite this strong to even effect his sense of smell or his sense of touch. When he dream shared or REM interfaced it was sometimes a struggle even to just _hear_ what was going on, let alone smell or feel anything. He had a feeling if he ate one of those sweets on the tray he’d even taste it.

He didn’t have to wait too long before a woman appeared, coming from behind a book shelf carrying at least six books. A proeathan woman with short black hair, strange in Apollo where all the women wore their hair long, and bright bright _bright_ golden eyes. She wore a human style sun dress and looked barely older than Desmond, though apparently looks could be deceiving for proeathans. His chest tightened. What if she _was_ immortal like the others?

She walked right up to the round table and set the books down, then she looked at him. “Ah now look at you,” she smiled at him.

“Tiamat?” he asked curiously.

“Well who else would I be?” she asked sharply.

“Right, sorry,” he raised his hands submissively. “I’m-

“I know who you are,” she said matter of factly, “I know everything about you and why you’re here and what you are.”

“Uh… okay,” Desmond said slowly. “Since you know what I’m here for what do you intent to do?”

She gave him a look and then sat at her table, “Sit,” she ordered with the air and tone of someone who didn’t even think you’d ever disobey her. Desmond wasn’t about to start, so he sat on the other chair. He said nothing and she poured them both tea. “Have some tea deary,” she said.

“Uh, no thanks. I’m not really a tea sort of guy.”

“Oh right of course. I forget you like coffee. Desmond!” she called and Desmond jumped to his feet when his clone showed up. He knew it was his clone because they had a second, larger, scar on their mouth from where Altair had cut him. “Desmond sit,” she scolded and Desmond sat again. She turned to his clone, “Desmond go get Desmond some coffee, I’m sure you know how he likes it.”

D2 looked at Desmond with hard eyes, “Of course, Tiamat,” he said and left again.

“And the two of you play nice. Not that you can hurt each other here anyway,” she said and Desmond realized his full tea cup was gone.

“Tiamat,” Desmond started, “if you know why I’m here then can we not waste time?”

“Waste time?” Tiamat asked him, “My dear _stadalla_ ,” she said, “that’s the last thing I was to do. But I know more than you. And I know you have questions.”

“I have questions about everything,” Desmond said, “but the main one is this: can I take my clone?”

“Maybe,” Tiamat said pleasantly, “It depends on your behavior.” Great, another old as balls proeathan who had problems with his behavior. “And I heard that,” she said sternly. Desmond swallowed.

“You hear everything don’t you?” Desmond asked.

“You have no idea,” Desmond started when D2 appeared next to him and put down a cup of coffee in front of him. Then he was gone again.

“Holy crap do _not_ do that,” Desmond said, he was going to have a panic attack if his clone did that again. He had a feeling D2 was doing it just to fuck with him. By Tiamat’s grin while she sipped some tea he knew he was right. Man he was a prick even to himself, he needed to do something about that. “Tiamat-

“I know,” she said, “you need my help.”

“… Uh no, not really,” he said.

“You just think you don’t. Its quite all right, your clone didn’t think he needed my help either. And yet here he is, much happier than he was serving _Chronos_ ,” she said it with absolute distaste and even disgust. “Horrible little man that he is,” she angrily drank from her teacup, for a second her eyes flashing blue. Desmond felt a lance of pain right between his eyes like a migraine. But it passed when her eyes became gold again.

“Alright, maybe I do,” Desmond said, rubbing his temple. “What do you think I need your help with.”

Tiamat looked right into his eyes and he got chills, “You need to forgive yourself,” she said.

“What?”

“I can see into your soul. I’ve never seen someone so torn up and doing so well keeping it together from just falling out. But you need to let go, Desmond,” she said.

“Right,” Desmond scoffed.

“I tell you what,” she leaned back in her chair, “you do something for me and I’ll think about letting you take your clone,” she said, pleased with herself.

“You’ll _think_ about it?” Desmond clarified.

“As it stands you’re never going to have him. He’s mine now. But if you can do this thing and do it well I’ll come up with something you can do for me to let you take him.”

“Oh so I have to do _two_ things for you? How about I just take him and let that be that?”

“If you disagree I can always wake up the rat they keep in here with me,” she said icily.

“The what?”

“A disgusting little man Chronos burdens me with. He’s supposed to kill anyone who comes in here. Right now he’s sleeping and so are you. I could just… wake him up if you’re unhappy with my terms.”

“Still I’m getting the shaft with this deal,” Desmond grumbled.

“Then think of it as doing something for yourself,” Tiamat said. “Your first step to… oh what he say? Being better?” Desmond’s eyes widened a bit, Tiamat just looked smug. “This isn’t a bad deal for you Desmond. I’m going to give you a second chance here. Now do you agree, or should I wake the rat?”

“What exactly do I have to do to get you to think about it?” Desmond asked carefully so he didn’t rush into this without knowing the terms.

“Do it differently,” Tiamat said. “Do we have a deal?” Desmond didn’t know quite what she meant, but he liked the sound of whatever the rat was even less. He nodded slowly. “Good,”  and she smiled, her eyes going blue and the pain came back. This time it was more intense and like his head was splitting open. He hunched over his knees and fell off the chair, clutching his head like a stinging jellyfish was latched across the back. Stupidly enough it reminded him of when Hawk had tried to give him the neural implant. He blacked out after about five seconds.

When Desmond’s eyes opened again he was in a place he never thought he’d see again. He sat up in his bed and looked around. He was in his bedroom in the house he’d grown up in at the Farm.


	34. Intermission: Dragons' Fire

Cain watched Desmond go into Tiamat’s chambers, the door closing, and then he was alone. He felt not a little bit of worry. What if something happened to him in there? Could he handle it? He let the worry linger for a few moments so when he dispelled it there was no argument in his mind that Desmond was fine. Desmond _would_ be fine. He stopped worrying and instead stepped back some out of Tiamat’s range.

Honestly her range was much greater than he let on to Desmond. He had felt her shortly after they left the substation as a press on his mind like someone’s thumbs on his temples. Bearable but annoying. The nose bleeds happened only when he was closer. He knew she was doing it to him specifically too. He walked out of nose bleeding range and leaned against the wall, moping up his face with his handkerchief. Then he waited.

Fifteen minutes passed before he started to grow anxious. He went back closer to Tiamat’s door. It was still closed and when Cain called up his night vision he didn’t seen any hint of it having been opened since he’d rounded the corner and put it out of his sight. Fuck. Now what was he supposed to do? He could go and summon the Adjatevs and tell them where Desmond was like he’d threatened the kid with. They’d rip the doors right off Tiamat’s room and storm the place to get him. Cain didn’t know if he wanted that though. Getting Desmond out the first time had been more difficult than he’d been made aware. There was now some poor human taking his place in that pod so the Adjatevs wouldn’t notice. Better that way, Desmond would have been pissed if he knew Cain had done that.

Kid needed to learn that sacrifices were acceptable during war. He was learning, but it was slow going. Quicker than his _nem-ta_ but that guy was a lost cause at this rate. He needed to focus on the present and the future, not the past.

But Cain wasn’t immune to the past and thinking about it made him so angry his vision literally whited out in rage for a moment. He took a deep breath and calmed down. He needed to focus on Desmond, his _nem-ta_ would wait. Cain had all the time in the world to deal with him. Desmond’s time was limited.

While he’d been thinking another five minutes had passed and Cain realized his nose wasn’t bleeding. Bitch. He wondered what she was so preoccupied that she’d ignore him like this. He didn’t know if he was insulted that she was focused so fully on something else that she was ignoring him, or grateful that Desmond’s head was so splintered and patched together that it took all of her concentration to deal with him. But dealing with him how? Cain needed to know. He started for the door.

When he made to cross into the darkened part of the hall it was like he hit a wall. His feet wouldn’t move and his nose started to gush. From down the hall the door opened. A pretty, young, proeathan woman stepped out from the door. She walked down the hall towards Cain, her hips swaying widely as she did so and his eyes were drawn down despite himself. He felt no urges though. Seemed not even she could induce desire, good to know.

“Hello little dragon,” Tiamat said once she was standing in front of him. Man, he hadn’t heard hado that pretty and lovely since he’d visited Tjak’s old abode deep in the mountains where he used to have lessons and he’d heard recordings of his father’s people speaking and singing in hado.

“So does this make you the big dragon?” Cain asked in hado, still holding his handkerchief up to his nose. “And is this necessary?” he motioned to his face.

“Must keep a man like you in line somehow,” Tiamat said shifting weight to one leg and popping her wide hips to one side.

Cain wasn’t impressed with that, “You realize I’m asexual right?” he asked blandly, “Go be a temptress to someone else, not interested.”

“Yes but its so fun,” Tiamat said, her painted lips curled into a fox-like smirk.

“Where’s Desmond?” Cain asked.

“The _stadalla_ is fine,” she said. “He’s sleeping.”

“Tiamat-

“And doing some much needed soul searching,” she said. Cain’s hackles lowered. “I made him a deal, he accepted it. I’m a goddess but I’m not unfair,” she said.

“You’re as much a goddess as I am a god,” Cain growled.

“And aren’t you a god? Oh first immortal?” and Cain’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t hide anything from me. You have such a nice orderly mind, everything in line. I could read your books for decades and never reread an old one.”

“Make the bleeding stop,” Cain said darkly, “or I’ll make you make it stop.”

Tiamat laughed, “And what can _you_ do to _me_?” she teased him. “I could kill you where you stand. I could have killed you the moment you entered this place _half breed_ ,” she said in a whisper soft hiss. “Sons of traitors deserve death before all.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Cain asked.

“Because you can do things for me,” she said.

“Oh now you need my help,” Cain laughed.

“Things you also want,” Tiamat said and was suddenly at his side, standing several inches taller than him and leaned down to whisper into his ear. So she was just a mind projection. Good to know at least. “I could give you Chronos,” she said seductively in his ear like a lover whispering sweet nothings after a night of love making. “I could give you the man who killed your people, who killed our entire _species_.”

Cain breathed slowly. He was passed the need for wanting vengeance on the dead Drell he’d never met. Even though he’d seen them. Dead in their pods, perfectly preserved, like they were waiting to wake up from sleep. Men, women, children, and everything in between. The mighty Drell Empire led by an Empress, and always an Empress, that had held land all across modern western Asia and even had several cities in southern Asia had been snuffed out by the Adjatevs. For what? So the fighting between the city states would be over. So someone could _win_. 

Long after his father and the rest of the remaining true Drell had died and Cain knew he had time unending he’d gone back to Shambhala and taken a decade to give all his lost people a proper, personal, burial. He’d come to terms with their deaths then, that he’d never have what they could have given him. He’d started it out of anger that his people had been robbed of him and then that they had been robbed of him in turn. He’d wanted to find these ‘ _Adjatevs’_ his father had told him about and destroy them. At the end of the ten years he’d found his peace though.

Tiamat was dangling an old desire in front of him like his favorite dish. His father and the other last Drell had died hating the other proeathans. His father and the others had never found peace after their entire race and way of life had been obliterated. She wanted to _give_ him Chronos, the Adjatev Chancellor. He could cut the head off the snake and give his father’s spirit some sense of satisfaction. You might have gotten us Chronos; but we got you too,

Cain turned and looked at her, “I don’t want him,” he said, she blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t _want_ him. You just said you wanted to give your father’s spirit some rest.”

“My father is dead. He doesn’t give a shit about Chronos anymore,” Cain said. “Chronos dies and one of his cabinet rises to take his place. Cut off one head two heads take its place. You want to kill a hydra like the Adjatevs you can’t just cut off the heads. You need to pierce the heart.”

Tiamat scowled at him and for a second her venire flickered and she looked like a vulture or a dragon. Some monstrous dark thing from nightmares. “And how do you plan to do that without help?” she sneered.

“I’m not going to do anything,” Cain said. “Desmond is,” and understanding dawned on her face. A darkness that had been creeping in from the unlit hall dissipated like the clouds had moved out of the path of the sun.

Tiamat appraised him with cool eyes, “I approve,” she said, “send a nightmare after them. How fitting after they submerged the world into darkness.”

“What are you doing to him in there? I need him whole.”

“He’ll be fine. When you get him back he’ll be better than he was.”

“You say that but I don’t trust you.”

Tiamat smiled, “And you shouldn’t,” she agreed. “Its always foolish to trust a dragon. But I assure you, he’s fine. At least if he can make it through the other side. Sometimes the seduction of forgetting is sweeter than the allure of life.”

“Tiamat,” he growled.

“Do you think he’ll pull through?”

“What are you _doing to him_?” he hissed.

“Giving him a second chance,” Tiamat said. “One he didn’t get the first time. And forgive himself and maybe dispel those ideas that he’s not good enough. Can’t have a nightmare with self esteem issues now can we?” he asked him sweetly.

“No,” Cain agreed. He’d been trying to build back up that self image in the few short weeks Desmond had been in Demeter. But at every turn he was undermined. Someone yanked it out from under him and insisted _no_ Desmond you didn’t know what you were doing. No you weren’t good enough. No you weren’t worthy. No you can’t possibly do this without help from someone older than you. It was a struggle when he was fighting up hill against Altair who the kid adored and wouldn’t see as wrong. Ezio and Micheal didn’t help. He loved them and didn’t want to push them away. But he wanted to be taken seriously by them and everyone else. Cain was the only one who took Desmond seriously. The others saw him as a child to be looked after and that undermined Desmond even more. At least progress was being mode, however slowly.

“How long should this take?” Cain asked.

“I don’t know. However long it takes. Do you intend to stand here and wait for him till he’s done?”

“If I have to,” Cain said stoically.

“How very noble,” Tiamat said, but she didn’t leave. Instead she lingered near him, her golden eyes bright like a snake eyeing prey. “You want to know,” she said, grinning gleefully.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cain said.

“Yes but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to know,” she cooed and he felt her hand on his shoulders. “You don’t know what I am, and that scares you,” she whispered into his ear, her lips nearly against his skin. Cain did his best to not look affected. “You want to know if I’m like you.”

Cain held silent for a minute before breaking, “Yes,” because what if he could have _not_ been alone all those millennia before finding Altair? What if someone could have been there for _him_ when he was young and afraid of what had happened to him?

The pleasure she took in his disappointment when she said, “I’m not immortal,” was palpable.

He brushed her off, “Than you’re much less interesting now,” and he didn’t look at her like she wanted him to. She scowled at him and stepped around in front of him. “Just a telepath and that isn’t nearly as interesting as an immortal.”

“Before the fall the last telepath had been dead a thousand years,” she said scornfully. “There isn’t anything else like me, just like there isn’t anything like you.”

Cain looked at her, “But that will change for me,” and for a second she looked stricken. “The divide will wear thin and one day I won’t be the only halfling. The best you can hope for is that Desmond can learn telepathy.” She bared her teeth at him and her image wavered again and he saw the monster of her mind beneath the surface. Now he saw why her own people had considered her so dangerous. But Cain wasn’t afraid. What could she do? Kill him?

With that last thought Tiamat turned from him and walked back down the dark hall. “One more step and I’ll make you brain dead,” she threatened, “over and over again until I decide otherwise.”

“I’ve died unending before,” Cain said glibly. “You’ll have to do more than that to impress me Tiamat.”

She turned and glared at him as she opened her door, her eyes blue and his nose started to bleed again. His eyes also started to bleed. “Do not forget your place little dragon. This is my territory, not yours,” she said softly.

Cain had his hand and handkerchief pressed up to his face to absorb all the blood he was now leaking. He could even taste it on his tongue though he was sure it was because the blood was dripping down the back of his nasal cavity than he was actually bleeding internally. She couldn’t do that, not to his body. To his brain sure, but not his body. “Look after the kid, Tiamat. I will kill you if you mess him up. I don’t let my investments just get away from me anymore.” She sneered at him and went into her room and the entire hall became swallowed in darkness except for the hulking shape of some sort of monster. Cain couldn’t make out exactly what it was, only that it was huge and he could feel its hot breath across his face. Such a drama queen.

Cain left her range where she could inflict bleeding on him and sat against the wall, pulling out another handkerchief to mop up his face. He knew he’d need it, because there had been no way Cain hadn’t expected her to show herself and make him bleed heavily. Without a mirror he didn’t know how much he got of the blood. But at the very least he wasn’t covered in it now, wiping his eyes and nose until he couldn’t get any more off. Then all he could do was wait and hope Desmond didn’t take too long.


	35. Wishbone

Desmond sat there for several seconds, taking stock of what he was looking at. It didn’t look like how he remembered exactly. An older memory tickled the back of his head. Outside he could hear someone driving out of the Farm, headed to god’s knew where. It could have even been his father. He could smell the summer air coming in through his open window, thick with the smell of wildflowers and freshly mowed grass. Outside his room, from behind the partially closed door he could hear someone moving around and a hissing noise.

What day was it? What _year_ was it?

Desmond lurched out of the bed and was so confused by his own body that he ended up stumbling and face planting into the wood floor so hard he saw stars. Movement outside the door stopped and for some reason unknown to Desmond he felt like he wanted to cry. He didn’t know why. Falling had hurt really bad but he was never the type to cry really. Or he hadn’t been? Tears still sprang to his eyes regardless of what he thought or wanted.

His bedroom door opened, “Desmond you okay?” and Desmond looked up from where he was still sprawled on the floor and now tears did start to flow. “Are you hurt?” they asked, coming into the bedroom.

“Duncan?” Desmond heard his voice, several pitches higher than he was used to, say.

“Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” Duncan asked, kneeling next to him and pulling him off the ground. Desmond could barely breathe. There was his brother. It was after he’d gotten back from the hospital after being nearly beat to death by two other boys his age. His arm had been broken in three places, he’d had four ribs broken, a bruised pelvis and jaw bone. And of course his eye. He’d lost vision in his left eye and the trauma from the beating had caused early onset cataracts in the eye so it was a milky brown color instead of its natural hazel.

“N-no,” Desmond stammered and got to his knees, tears pouring down his face and making his breath hitch.

“You sure?” Duncan asked him gently. Desmond nodded, unable to speak, “Then why are you crying?” Desmond had no answer, he just cried harder and threw himself at Duncan, hugging him as tightly as he could manage. Now he knew why his body had felt so strange. It was smaller. He was in a child’s body, clinging to his brother for all he was worth. Duncan hugged him back, trying to shush Desmond and figure out why he was crying loudly into Duncan’s shoulder, getting the entire thing soaked in his tears. Desmond never wanted to let go. He’d let go once and had always regretted it.

“I missed you,” Desmond said, voice shaking.

“Missed me?” Duncan asked, “you just took a nap,” he said, still stroking Desmond’s back gently.

“I…” Desmond felt tongue tied, “I had a dream you died,” he said. Yeah, it was just a dream. Right? Right now it felt like a dream. All those awful things had happened to someone else. Some other Desmond. But not him.

“No,” Duncan said, gently prying Desmond off him to look at him clearly, “that was just a dream Desmond,” he said and stroked Desmond’s head. “Now we have some homework before I go see Lisa okay?” and he stood up.

“Lisa?” Desmond asked, confused. He was so confused. He _swore_ that his dream had been real.

“Yeah, my therapist. I go and see her every Thursday. You sure you’re okay? You did bump your head,” and he held Desmond’s head in both hands, worry written across his entire face. Tears welled up in Desmond’s eyes again. “Des are you sure you’re okay?” Duncan asked. Desmond just hugged him again and in fact wouldn’t let Duncan move an inch without pulling Desmond off him. Duncan was tall for his age, he’d probably have been even taller than dream Desmond when he grew up. And like Duncan Desmond had late growth spurts, so he was still easy to pick up and take over to the bed.

Duncan sat with Desmond in his lap and just pet his hair while Desmond cried some more. His brother didn’t know what was wrong, but whatever it was could obviously be cured by some love and attention.

The dream still haunted him and what he’d become. Dream Desmond. He’d been so scary. So angry and alone. His heart ached for Dream Desmond because he’d dreamed the entire thing up. Some strange adult version of himself. But he’d felt everything. He knew how much Dream Desmond hurt, all the time. How he couldn’t just be happy. How he couldn’t let anyone close, and when he did something always happened anyway. He was too young to know or feel these things, but he felt them. He felt them even now in every inch of his little body and they were compounded five fold when daddy came home from work and would ask him how his day was and never seemed to really care. Or he did but what he heard wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Sometimes he’d sleep in mommy’s room, other times he left after dinner and went to sleep somewhere else. Most of the time he slept somewhere else. He felt them even more when Duncan and daddy fought, stern, tight lipped conversations that were spoken through clenched teeth. Duncan locked himself in his room for the night after each one and came out perfectly pleasant in the morning. Sometimes daddy would yell at Desmond afterwards. When he did it was about how he _better_ not end up like his brother. Daddy never slept in mommy’s room then and Desmond put himself to bed those nights.

Desmond ended up passing out as Duncan held him, worn out by so many more emotions than he was capable of handling swirling around inside him. The blanket tucked around him felt like Duncan’s, warm, strong arms. When he woke up he was alone and managed to keep from crying again knowing Duncan was talking to his therapist. Duncan said it was important he went there, so he could get better even after he got out of the hospital.

Desmond ended up dragging his blanket out to the living room and crawling onto the couch. There was no TV. He didn’t even know what a TV was. Except he did because Dream Desmond had loved TV. He didn’t know that TVs were real though. He knew the house didn’t have a TV, yet he still sort of expected there to be one in the living room. Because that was where you put TVs. 

He curled up on the couch because he wanted to be there when Duncan got home so he could see him when he opened the door. And then he just sat, and waited. There were no books in the house that Desmond could read. They were all too hard to read and Duncan had to read them to him. And he didn’t really have any toys. He had some blocks and things, but not like the toys Dream Desmond had seen in toy stores or in the big box stores.

Instead he thought about Dream Desmond. Or maybe Future Desmond? Dream Desmond had been able to see the future. What if _he_ could see the future too? What if he’d just seen his entire future? He pressed his blanket to his eyes as they started to water just thinking about it. He didn’t want to end up like Dream Desmond. Dream Desmond was so tired and angry and lonely and scared. But he was also so nice and brave and strong. He ended up crying for Dream Desmond because all he wanted was a normal life. A normal life with a normal family and normal friends, and he’d never been able to. He wasn’t _good_ enough for those sorts of things. He wasn’t allowed to have things like that.

He perked up, sniffling, when the door opened. “Hey Desmond— are you crying again?” Duncan asked as he came inside. Desmond shook his head and wiped his eyes. Duncan came over to him and knelt. “What’s the matter D?” he asked. “You’ve been so upset today since you took that nap.”

“My dream-

Duncan frowned, “It was just a dream buddy,” he said gently and stroked his hair. “Now c’mon, come help me make dinner and then we have homework,” and Desmond let himself be pulled off the couch. Desmond held Duncan’s hand as they went into the kitchen. 

They washed their hands and Desmond helped Duncan make dinner. They had chicken nuggets, tator tots, and mac n’ cheese. Desmond’s favorites! Duncan was quiet while they had dinner, which Desmond didn’t mind. They usually had quiet dinners.

“Is daddy not coming home tonight?” Desmond asked.

“No,” Duncan said, “he’s busy working.”

“Oh, okay. Did you like seeing Ms. Lisa?”

“Yeah,” Duncan said slowly, “made me realize some stuff,” and Duncan had finished eating. Duncan always ate fast. He got up and Desmond quickly scarfed down the last of his tots so Duncan would take his plate into the kitchen. 

Duncan put the dishes in the washer and they did their homework. Or rather, Desmond did his homework. Duncan just sat next to him and helped him do his math and helped him study his vocab for his test at the end of the week. Desmond thought it was sort of weird since Duncan always did his homework at the same time Desmond did.

Something felt weird. He didn’t quite know what it was. Duncan seemed so… calm. Usually his brother had an edge. Though Desmond didn’t know why he hadn’t realized till now. It was like he’d never even noticed it but now he had some new insight on Duncan’s behavior.

It came to him while he was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed after they did homework and Duncan went to go check on the horses in the stable out back. Dream Desmond had lived through this day already. He finished brushing and washed his mouth out and then stood at the back door waiting for Duncan to come back inside. He had to wait a few minutes though he knew he was supposed to go get in bed after brushing his teeth and Duncan read him a story. Then the door opened and Duncan came in.

“Desmond,” Duncan said, though he didn’t have the normal stern tone he took when Desmond stayed up past his bedtime, “why aren’t you in bed?”

“What day is it?” Desmond asked.

“Desmond-

“What day is it!” Desmond said again.

Duncan sighed a little as he turned Desmond towards his room, “Its Thursday, you know that.”

“The date. What’s the date,” Desmond pressed, dread welling up in his throat as they went into Desmond’s room.

“August fifth,” Duncan said and made a motion for Desmond to get into bed.

“Nineteen ninety-five?” he asked starting to get freaked out now. Dream Desmond’s least favorite day of the year was August sixth. He always called out of work on those days, no matter what, and he even went to work on his birthdays. Before they’d all been lost he’d spend the entire day reading his journals out loud to his apartment like he was talking to someone. Like he was talking to his dead brother. He’d also fast for the day and make ‘the last meal’ as he called it. Chicken nugget, tator tots, and mac n’ cheese. It never made Dream Desmond feel better exactly. But it always just _felt_ right and at was all he could think of doing since it wasn’t like he could visit Dream Duncan’s grave or send flowers.

“Its been nineteen ninety-five all year,” Duncan said patiently. “Now c’mon, get into bed,” and he pulled back Desmond’s blankets.

Desmond instead hugged Duncan’s leg, “Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked.

“What? Desmond, c’mon now you’re a big boy. You need to sleep in your own bed?”

“Please?” Desmond asked, his voice cracking.

“Desmond what is with your today?” Duncan asked and pulled Desmond off his leg gently.

The tears jumped to his eyes instantly, “I don’t want you to go,” he sobbed.

“What?” Duncan asked but his face looked a bit pale.

“Please don’t kill yourself,” and Duncan’s face went dead white, both his good and bad eyes focused on Desmond’s face. That made the tears spill over and Desmond sobbed loudly and fell onto his backside on the floor his grief of knowing what would have happened making it uncontrollable. Dream Desmond hadn’t _just_ been Dream Desmond, he’d been Future Desmond too. Duncan _had_ been planning to kill himself tonight just like in his dream. 

What if that meant all the rest of the dream real too? Getting kidnapped, the Animus and losing his mind, bringing about the end of the world. Becoming so empty and angry inside. The self hatred he’d felt _all the time_ for his existence. The guilt that was like noose around his neck.

Duncan knelt in front of him and grabbed his arms, “Who told you I was suicidal?” he asked, more like demanded. It was a secret he’d hidden from everyone along with his depression. Dream Desmond had known though, because he was older and could look back on these years and see how depressed and strained Duncan was. Duncan never wanted anyone to know how depressed he was, that he was suicidal. He tried so hard to just… be _normal_ and be good enough for their dad.

“No one,” Desmond sniffed. “I just know.”

“Desmond-

“Don’t leave me alone,” Desmond sobbed and hugged his brother. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?” Duncan hugged Desmond tightly, so hard it hurt but Desmond barely noticed.

“Dad would take care of you,” was Duncan’s soft, weak, excuse in his ear.

“No!” Desmond cried. “No he wouldn’t. The only one who takes care of me is you,” he wiped his face as best he could with the back of his hand and arm. “Daddy doesn’t care about me,” and that made him cry harder. “Don’t leave me with him. I need you. I _need_ you,” and he held Duncan as tightly as he could.

“I love you,” Desmond said again. “I love you so much. I love you,” and then he just started stammering it over and over again between his hitching sobs. It took him a while to realize his brother was crying too, his face pressed into Desmond’s little shoulder. Duncan never cried. He always put on a brave face, even when he’d been in the hospital he always smiled for Desmond and never said he was in pain. But now Duncan cried with Desmond.

“I love you too,” Duncan said after what felt like a long time. “I love you so much, Desmond,” he still held Desmond tightly, like letting go and he’d fall apart. “I’m not going to leave you,” and he kissed Desmond’s head, then he pulled back some and kissed Desmond’s face, not minding how wet and gross it was. Duncan’s face was just as tear soaked.

“Really?” Desmond asked, hiccuping and trying to get his breathing back under control.

“Really,” Duncan said.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Desmond said and rubbed his nose with his arm to wipe at the mucus.

“Me either,” Duncan said softly.

“So I can sleep with you tonight?”

“Yes,” and Duncan hugged him again, holding him gently. “You can sleep with me whenever you want,” and he kissed the side of Desmond’s head, stroking his hair. “And sometimes I might need you to come sleep with me too so I can have good dreams. Okay?” and Desmond knew what he wasn’t saying. Nights he felt suicidal he wanted Desmond with him to remind him why he needed to keep living.

“Yes,” Desmond said, hugging him back.

“C’mon, lets go wash up a bit,” and Duncan heaved himself to his feet. Desmond grabbed his hand and they walked to the bathroom and washed their faces. Duncan changed Desmond’s pajamas and then to his surprise put on his shoes. Duncan also put on his shoes and Duncan grabbed his hand and they left the house.

“Where are we going?” Desmond asked.

“Just up the road,” Duncan said in a soft voice. “Near where Ms. Lisa lives.”

“Oh,” Desmond said and they got into one of the cars next to the house. Daddy had taken the truck earlier apparently so they took the car. Duncan always drove himself to his therapist, which was up the road a ways to a little town in the middle of nowhere between the Farm and Grand Rapids called Hill City.

Desmond had never been outside of the Farm before. It was sort of exciting but also scary. They drove about twenty minutes in the dark, through a pine forest and steep hills down a well maintained dirt road before they met a paved road. Little houses dotted the side of the road and that late at night they were the only ones out, even though the radio only said it was seven thirty.

They drove into Hill City and Desmond pressed his face to the window as they drove down the main street that was lined with buildings that were all still lit up. Duncan parked at a grocery store and they got out, Duncan keeping a tight hold of Desmond’s hand. Desmond thought he should be more amazed of a grocery store and all the stuff to see and all the food. But he wasn’t surprised. Dream Desmond had been into hundreds of grocery stores. They went to the ice cream section and picked out a pint of ice cream. Well, two pints of ice cream. One for Desmond, and one for Duncan. Duncan paid with cash, and then went back to the car.

The drive home seemed to last forever and Desmond nodded off even on the short drive. He half woke when Duncan picked him up one armed and carried him to the house. He was more awake for Duncan to scoop three big spoons into a bowl for him.

“You’re the best big brother,” Desmond said as he was eating his ice cream. Duncan just smiled. “Though driving with one eye is dangerous,” he scolded and that surprised Duncan so much that he laughed aloud.

“You’re right. But I do it anyway,” Duncan said. They finished their ice cream and brushed their teeth again. Desmond followed Duncan into his bedroom and Duncan changed into his sleeping clothes. Pajama pants and a cotton T-shirt.

“Duncan,” Desmond said as they got into bed.

“Hmm?” Duncan asked.

“How come you have funny scars right here?” he asked and patted Duncan’s stomach. He had lines of short scars in neat rows all the way up his stomach to his belly button and flanks and vanishing down below his pant line. “Was that from when you were in the hospital?”

“No,” Duncan said, cuddling him. “Sometimes I get so sad I can’t feel anything and it feels like I can’t breathe or move. So I—

Desmond just gave him a confused look when Duncan’s words failed him.

“I used to,” Duncan said in a whisper. “I used to get so very very sad. I’d want just any release I could get. So I’d take one of dad’s knives and just… make a little cut.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

“Yes,” Duncan said. “But I felt numb before that. It let me feel again. It was a release. It made me feel better.”

“But you don’t do it anymore?”

“No,” Duncan said so softly Desmond could barely hear him. “I haven’t since I went into the hospital.”

“So you don’t feel that way anymore?”

“Sometimes I do,” Duncan said, holding him tighter. “But now I do other things than hurt myself to feel again.”

“Good,” Desmond said, “I’m glad you don’t hurt yourself anymore,” and he kissed Duncan on the cheek. Duncan just smiled at him and Desmond snuggled up against him. “Night D,” he said.

“Night D,” Duncan kissed his cheek again and Desmond closed his eyes.

Desmond hadn’t slept that well in twenty years.

—

As soon as Desmond touched the Apple he felt a force on his body. A hand on his soul that froze him in place. He moved his eyes, trying to force his body to move. Images flashed through his mind, ancient things and old prophecies. A lot of it didn’t make sense. Why? Why?

The force turned him. He could hear Juno talking to him, some more things about prophecy and destiny, but Desmond could barely hear her. It was like he was swimming through mud, his movements slow and forced. He started walking slowly back towards the others. He didn’t really call them his friends. He didn’t really _have_ friends though. They weren’t moving, but rather seemed to be locked in space. Desmond could see their eyes moving.

He was forced forward, and would have fallen and stumbled if the firm hand didn’t seem to be around his neck keeping him upright. He shambled on stiff legs closer to them, the guide pushing him towards Lucy first. His hand flexed against his will, his hidden blade came out and images and understanding washed over him.

He saw what would be. He knew that there were Assassins heading towards the temple now, but there were Templars too. Lucy had called them. She’d called them both. They’d come for the Apple, and for Desmond but the faces who shoved him into a van were equally unknown to Desmond. He didn’t know if they were friend or foe and he realized: it didn’t matter. The future was the same. One way or another he’d be a captive of one of the organizations. Flavor didn’t matter, he’d be a prisoner. He saw the Abstergo Eye, what the Templars would do with it, why it’d be bad, and ultimately that it’d fail if Lucy didn’t die.

She’d ruin everything. He could feel that in the back of his mind. She will _ruin_ everything. But there was something under that he couldn’t pick apart. What would she ruin? A plan. What plan?

He was getting closer now. “No,” he said softly, looking into Lucy’s eyes. She was aware, staring at him, her eyes the only thing that could move, and she was afraid.

What was the point? What was the POINT!? It wasn’t going to work! The Eye was a failure. The future painted to Desmond was the same if Lucy lived or died. He’d be strapped in an Animus ‘for the good of the cause’ by either side. He could feel a low current in his mind and he felt more than saw flashes of Rebecca and Shaun. He knew they were next.

His hand was drawn back and he stared in horror at Lucy. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t need or want a pointless deaths on his hands! “No,” he said again, amazed he could move his mouth. Tears collected at the edge’s of Lucy’s eyes, she knew he was about to hurt her. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this! HE DIDN’T WANT THIS!

“No!” he yelled as his hand was moved forward to deliver what would be a killing blow and under force of will changed the direction of the strike. He ended up sinking the blade deep into his own abdomen. His body was suddenly under his control again, his body going limp. The Apple fell from his weak fingers and rolled away. He stared at Lucy, breathing hard and she could move now.

“Desmond?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock and face white as milk.

Desmond tried to say something, but all that came up was blood. He knew the feeling of dying. He’d done it a thousand times already in the Animus. He wasn’t afraid of death. Blood bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. “I told you I’d keep you safe,” he managed to say and pulled the knife from his stomach. The strike had meant to kill Lucy, so it hadn’t just been a stab in the chest, which he could have handle, but also a yank up on his arm, digging the blade through flesh. He’d given himself the wound instead and he could feel his lungs filling with blood.

He managed to stay standing a few seconds more before he collapsed.

“Desmond!” he heard them yell but Lucy was the one who was at his side in an instant.

“What happened?” Shaun yelled.

“Go get the others,” Lucy ordered zipping up her jacket.

“But Lucy-

“Go get the others _now_!” she yelled, looking at the two of them, “They should be at the temple entrance. Run.” Shaun and Rebecca looked overwhelmed even as Lucy was wriggling out of her shirt under her jacket. Of them only Lucy seemed to have her head together. The techs hesitated a moment before taking off, Rebecca sprinting, Shaun as fast as he could go.

Lucy leaned over him and pressed her shift, now balled up, to his abdomen. “Desmond, Desmond,” she said and touched his face.

“I’m alive still,” he said, staring up at her.

“What happened?” she asked in a whisper.

“Someone wanted me to hurt you,” he said. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t,” he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. 

She held them there. “Stay with me,” she said, “don’t sleep no matter what.”

Desmond smiled tiredly, “I won’t,” he promised. “So long as you stay with me too.” Lucy put more pressure on the wound. When Desmond glanced down he saw that her shirt was already deep red from his blood. “Its pretty bad isn’t it?”

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, still holding his hand to her face. 

“Promise?”

“I promise. Who’ll keep me safe if you’re gone?” she asked.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Desmond said, licking his lips, he tasted a lot of blood. At least being horizontal seemed to be keeping the blood out of his mouth.

Several minutes passed and they stayed there on the ground. “Hey Lucy,” he said.

“Yeah?” she asked, her hand still gently cupping his face, even though Desmond’s hand had fallen away. He’d lost too much blood and was getting weaker. His body was starting to go into shock, and that wasn’t the worst of it.

He smiled at the absolute absurdity of it all, that fate had twisted itself like this. He knew things he shouldn’t, saw a future timeline disintegrate into sand right before his mind’s eye as he said, “There’s blood in my lungs,” and when he breathed it was laborious.

“You’re going to be all right,” Lucy said fiercely.

But Desmond didn’t feel afraid. He knew he’d done the right thing. He wouldn’t have to suffer after this moment. “Its okay,” he said.

“No it isn’t,” she snapped and checked behind her for Shaun and Rebecca.

“I don’t think they’ll be in time,” Desmond said. “I guess I cut a bit too deep,” and his breathing was wet and gross sounding.

“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be all right,” she said, leaning over him.

“No, I’m not. But its okay.”

“Desmond-

“I’ve seen this before. I killed you, because I wasn’t strong enough. This time… this time I was,” he smiled and reached up, touching her face. “I saved you from a horrific, degrading, fate,” and the memory of what the proeathans had done to recreate her made tears jump to his eyes. He’d have taken any feelings he had back if it meant she could just rest.

“Desmond stop talking.”

He laughed a little, coughed, and turned his head away from her to spit out several mouthfuls of nearly black heart’s blood. “I will in a minute,” he said weakly, and yeah his body was going into shock and shutting down. He knew because he’d experienced it before in the Animus, dragging his damaged body through the streets, waiting to recover or to find a doctor for some ‘medicine’ branded health packs. “I just wanna tell you something first.”

“What?” she asked, trembling, looking down at him.

“I think you’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever known. And I know you’re a Templar,” she froze. “I need you to leave me here.”

“No,” she said.

“If you don’t, my father will find you. He knows. You know he doesn’t take well to failure,” he said tiredly. “He’ll want to kill you, especially since I’m about to die on your watch.”

“You aren’t going to die,” she said thickly.

“Yeah I am,” he licked his lips, it was all blood. “I know what it feels like to die. I’ve done it a hundred times already. Don’t— don’t make me changing destiny end up with you dead anyway,” he tried to swallow, and barely could. “Please, just leave before they get here.”

“Desmond-

“Lucy, this is the last thing you can do for me.”

Her lips trembled, “I will,” she said and then suddenly wiped her eyes. “I will,” she said again.

“Good,” Desmond sighed and relaxed, eyes closing a moment before he opened them again slowly. Lucy wasn’t holding her shirt to his stomach anymore and Desmond was now laying in a pool of his own blood. Even if she did it wouldn’t do much good, it was completely soaked in blood and totally useless. “Thank you,” he said weakly.

“For what?” she asked, “All I’ve done is hurt you,” and she looked an inch away from crying.

“For giving a shit about me, when no one else really ever did.” She grabbed his face in both hands, both were stained with his blood in some way, and pressed her lips to Desmond’s firmly. He didn’t have the energy to kiss her back. Instead he just breathed out and didn’t end up breathing back in. When Lucy felt him go lifelessly still she sat back up and stared at the podium where the Apple had been and let some tears flow down her cheeks.

She stubbornly scrubbed the tears away with her jacket sleeve and then got up, and did exactly what Desmond had begged her to do. She left him there for the Assassins to find.

The Assassins weren’t the first ones to find Desmond though and instead three wraiths came out from the dim teal light to stand over Desmond’s dead body. They had a hushed conversation between them and then one bent down and picked the Apple up from the ground where it had rolled out of Desmond’s fingers. The chamber was filled with a golden light and the sound of singing.

—

When Desmond looked down the street he saw proeathans for the first time. Decked out in armor with guns and taking up the entire street. 

“They came to pick me up,” D2 said, looking back at the proeathans, “since I failed. And to pick him up too,” he pointed at Desmond.

“Not on my watch,” Altair said, slowly backing up from Desmond’s clone.

“He could come with us,” Desmond said, since his clone looked like he knew he was so fucked. He’d failed. He was going to get in so much trouble for this. Desmond sort of felt bad for him. He didn’t know what it was like, but he could imagine what sort of punishment they’d wreck upon the poor guy for failing to integrate successfully. Even though he was a clone he had an attachment to his body in that he didn’t like seeing things mutilate it.

“No way,” Altair said. “He said he wanted to kill you several times.”

“But also that the proeathans would be pissed if he did,” Desmond reminded him.

“Oh I want to kill you,” D2 said.

“Why? You’d get in trouble?”

“Core function: kill Desmond Miles. Don’t ask me, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them,” D2 said.

“Shame, you were kinda awesome.”

“Well, I _am_ you,” D2 still hadn’t moved from where he was sitting.

“Stop flirting with yourself, it’s weird,” Jake said.

“You’re the one who thought we were going to make out,” D2 said. “Someone’s got a kink,” he said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Jake said, but looked both mortified and horrified and embarrassed by that statement.

“Gross,” Hawk informed them.

“Uh, guys, they’re _getting closer_ ,” Ezio said. At least _someone_ had the priority to keep watching the proeathans. They were a block away now. “I think now would be a good time to run.”

“What he said,” Hawk said.

“You guys go,” Altair said, “I’ll hold them.”

“Altair-

“I’ll _hold them_ ,” he shot a look at Ezio who’d spoken.

“Just make sure you run away too,” Ezio said.

“I got it. Now _go_. Make sure they don’t get him,” Altair ordered.

“Okay,” and Ezio grabbed Desmond’s arm. “C’mon Des.”

Desmond stumbled a little as Ezio pulled him away, but then he dug in. Something didn’t feel right. “Des-

“Wait,” Desmond looked back at his clone, who was still just sitting there and Altair was standing in the middle of the street armed only with his hidden blade, ready to wreck some hell.

“Desmond we have to go,” Ezio grabbed him to drag him away. It was like when Ezio tried to drag him away from Altair back in Dubai and he’d had to watch Altair die. This was different though. This time he wasn’t worried about Altair, he was worried about himself.

He shook Ezio off and before Ezio could grab him again he went and grabbed his clone by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You’re coming with us,” he said and shoved D2 forward.

“Little Bird what are you doing?” Hawk demanded.

“I’m not going to let them do anything bad to him,” Desmond said.

“You can’t save everyone, Little Bird.”

Desmond looked at the three of them. They’d known about the plantations, about the horrors in the world that had befallen their people. “Not with you three telling me what I can do I can’t,” Desmond said. “He’s coming with us,” and he had D2 by the back of the neck.

“Ffffffff—ine,” Hawk swore. “With me, the rest of you, meet back at the parking garage as soon as you’re able.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked.

“ _No_ ,” Hawk snapped, “But its how it is,” he sent a hard look at Desmond. Ezio just nodded and bolted. “Lets go,” he told Desmond as they heard the sounds of Altair fighting the proeathans.

Desmond grabbed D2 by the arm and dragged his clone along behind Hawk at a jog, D2 having to keep up or suffer face planting into the ground.

They followed Hawk down the street, around several corners and into an apartment building and up a flight of stairs. There the short Bostonian grabbed D2 and pushed him onto the floor and drew his cane sword, flicking it out to full length and putting it to D2’s throat.

“What the _hell_ are you doing Little Bird?” Hawk demanded.

“I couldn’t leave him,” Desmond said.

“He wants to kill you,” Hawk hissed.

Desmond looked down at D2, who was staring at Hawk’s cane sword only a few centimeters from his throat and pinning him to the wall warily. “I couldn’t,” Desmond said. “He’s me.”

“He is _not_ you, he’s a clone.”

“I know that. But its like he’s me, like if the proeathans actually got to me,” and Hawk frowned deeply. “I’d hate myself for letting them get to me.”

“Altair is going to be pissed.”

“Altair can get the fuck over himself,” Desmond said. “This is my apocalypse, not his. He’s coming with us.”

“He still wants to kill you.”

“He won’t,” Desmond said.

“You’re so sure?” Hawk asked.

When Desmond looked down at D2 they were looking back at him. “I’m like his big brother,” he said and watched D2’s eyes widen a bit. “He’d never hurt his big brother.”

“Fuck you,” D2 growled. “You’re not my big brother.”

“Not yet,” Desmond said and looked back at Hawk. “I need you to make him believe that,” he said.

Hawk was staring at him aghast, “You know what you’re asking me, right?” Hawk asked.

“I do,” Desmond said. “But to keep him safe I need to be safe too. He needs to think I’m not me.”

“I don’t even know if it’ll work,” Hawk said. “His memories are probably all just Animus functions. He’s literally just a Bleed _of you_. I don’t know it’s possible.”

“Try,” Desmond said. “That’s all I ask. Just try.”

Hawk frowned and looked down at D2. “So what? You want to be Duncan now?”

Desmond shook his head, “No,” Desmond looked back down at D2. “Our parents just had three sons, instead of two.”

“Fuck… fine,” and Hawk snapped his cane sword back into the retracted position and pulled his Apple from his coat. “One little brother, coming up,” and the Apple started to glow gently, the light reflecting in D2’s eyes and for a brief moment while the Apple sang Desmond swore he heard screaming.

—

It was Pluto, hovering just above the ground wearing flowing robes that make him appear etherial. The conversation they’d just had played back to Desmond in a loop and he felt like he was having a horrible sense of deja vu. For a moment he froze and couldn’t move, staring at the hologram.

Pluto cocked his head to the side at Desmond. And then time seemed to rapidly speed up and he was caught back up in the moment. He shook his head a bit. What the fuck had that deja vu been? It was like he’d lived this before. Or was remembering a dream he’d had a long time ago. He was supposed to say something here.

"So, uh, what now? You said I'm something like... a prophesied hero... or something," Desmond said slowly, testing out the words. But it wasn’t just ‘or something’. It was more than that, he knew it was more than that but he just couldn’t piece the two thoughts together. What he _knew_ teased him just outside of ability to remember.

"Indeed," Pluto said, "You are more like us then any human has ever been." It was like watching a movie he’d watched when he was young but didn’t really remember. So familiar, but yet not.

"All right. So, what am I supposed to do? Save the world, right?" There was nearly a script in front of him. He knew he needed to say things, do things.

"And restore the planet to its original condition. Erase wars and end corruption and stop your kind from marching towards their own destruction. If you choose to do so."

He stopped fighting the deja vu took a deep breath, going with it, "Big job."

"And very important."

"So this is a... totally hypothetical question. But say that my brother _was_ here in my place. Any idea what he'd do?" But Desmond did know.

"We saw this as well. He was not strong enough to do what needed to be done. He left and let the world fall to ruin. Within a few decades at the least, few centuries at most, you people will have a drought of fresh water. The Water Wars will begin and entire parts of the world will cease to exist."

"Then... why would he leave? He wouldn't just have let that happen," Desmond insisted. It didn’t sound like Duncan _at all_. He was a bleeding heart and didn’t want anyone to get hurt. No… no that wasn’t right. That was a shadow of a memory of a child. There was something else there, that he knew wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. That didn’t sound like Duncan.

"You are not your brother, your brother is not you. He would have not done it. He prescribed to your organization's teachings, everyone has a choice. He believed people were better then what we said and he would have taken the risk of the world ripping itself apart over water, for there was a slim chance that it wouldn't. He would have bet on that slim chance."

That did and didn’t sound like his brother. Memories were conflicting. Part of him said that yes, his brother was an idealist, a dreamer, but another part said that no he wasn’t. The dreamer had had his wings cut off by garden shears. "Well, I'm not my brother,” his mouth refused to obey him and just kept saying the lines. He needed to change it though. There was a change here, what Pluto was saying didn’t mesh with the brother he remembered.

"We were counting on that," Pluto said pleasantly. A feeling of unease hit him, he’d missed it the first time. He’d done this before. He’d missed that tell the first time.

"I'm not really an optimist. In my life if there's a chance shit will go wrong, it will, and it'll do so sooner, rather then later."

"A wise stance," Pluto said. “So, what are you going to do?"

“I… I guess,” Desmond said, breaking the script. It made his tongue feel light all the sudden.

“It starts here,” Pluto said and motioned to the pillar, the pulsations were still increasing in speed and Desmond tried to get his heart rate to slow down, at least be normal. He was supposed to do this. This was his destiny. Right? He was prophesied, nothing could go wrong. It shouldn’t. All he wanted to do was fix everything. But he couldn’t remember what was broken. Something had changed and he couldn’t remember what. Some important moment had been altered and this entire conversation felt wrong.

Desmond moved closer to the pillar, and while still perfectly smooth he saw a design had appeared on it lit in glue like some high tech tablet. The design was the outline of a handprint. Desmond's knew it was _his_ handprint just like it was _his_ heartbeat the tower and Apple were pulsing to the beat of. 

"So what? I just put my hand on it?”

"Yes. That will start the process, once it is done, we'll take care of the rest," he smiled nicely at him.

“Then what?” another break in the script.

"So much," Pluto said, "There is so much to do. But we can't do any of it until _you_ start it."

“Then what?” Desmond pressed again, not moving, looking at Pluto.

“I told you-

“Tell me _more_ ,” Desmond said, this was different. This was the change. He remembered this scene now in crisp clarity. He’d walked blindly into the trap.

“I will once you-

“Pluto,” Desmond said, “I’m ordering you to tell me,” and Pluto blinked in surprise.

“What makes you think you can order me?” Pluto asked.

Desmond looked down at himself, he’d taken off his jacket already, standing in his shirt, to ask what they were. He’d been so naive back then, so foolish. Jumping head first into a pitch black ocean. As he watched the glyphs started to spread down his arms, burning themselves into his skin. It was as close to the surface of the reality of his existence as he’d gotten so far. He could manipulate the memories to some degrees now. The insight unlocked the changed memories and he saw them pile up in his mind’s eye. 

Now he knew why Pluto’s words about his brother seemed so weird, why several memories conflicted against each other. He saw himself die half the time in Juno instead of Lucy. He’d saw the changes in history just once stupid mistake he’d made growing up could have changed. Some of the times when he felt he was followed he stayed and lingered, to see who was following him, and it would be Altair or Ezio or Hawk. Some of those times he confronted them, some of them he ran. The times he confronted them his teenage years outside of the Farm didn’t suck so much.

Sometimes Duncan lived, but every time their father died. Duncan as an adult wasn’t like the scared, depressed, teenage boy Desmond remember. He was like Desmond; he was a weapon. But Desmond was a well crafted knife with a nearly invisibly sharp edge, the perfect offensive weapon in the right hands but useless without direction. Duncan was like a pair of gauntlets. Not for smashing or punching, but skilled enough to use dangerous weapons to protect themselves from the many sharp knives in the world. They were both uniquely fitted weapons, one to attack, the other defend. But God help you if you got between Duncan and what he was trying to protect.

Sometimes Duncan died and Desmond became him. Other times he became the son their father always wanted. The perfect Assassin. Sometimes still he was the one who put the knife through Andrew’s neck.

Other memories involved the way his life had gone in reality. At Abstergo he’d done things differently, he hadn’t played so stupid, admitted to what he was. He _hadn’t_ gone with Lucy during the ‘break out’, knowing it would make things different. He’d been nearly self aware in that change. He’d _wanted_ to see what would happen if he refused to play the runaway. Sometimes in Abstergo he’d gone up behind Vidic and the old man had paid him no mind until Desmond had his hands around the old man’s throat.

Some memories had involved Jacob or Lucy. But they felt so… fluffy. Sometimes he picked Jacob and nothing bad had happened to him. Sometimes he just left Jacob after his nap and never looked back. It was his fault after all, that Jake was like this. The ones about Lucy seemed dull compared to seeing her recently. Something was different about those memories than the reality, he couldn’t quite figure it out. There wasn’t a single retry he’d told her he loved her.

That was the point of all of this. To see all this shit and make it through to the other side. To face every bad decision he’d made or could have ever made and try it again. And when he made a different decision it opened so many more. Tiamat had said this would make him ‘better’, as she and Cain seemed so keen on calling it now.

Well, he was certainly better now.

“Because I’m in control now,” Desmond said looking up at Pluto.

“Just touch the monitor,” Pluto said.

Desmond looked at it, he could, if he wanted to. Was this the change he needed to make? He didn’t remember retrying this one before, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. What was the other choice here? “No,” he said.

“Fool,” Pluto said and the room was bathed in a yellow light. “You will obey, human,” he said, “Touch the monitor.”

Desmond looked up at him and then stepped aside. “No,” he said, grinning. “You can’t make me. Your people tried before, but even a not- _stadalla_ was enough to take you out.”

“Come back here,” Pluto ordered, with every ounce of will he had. Desmond felt it as a twitch across his scalp.

“No,” Desmond said. “Not this time, or any time. The proeathans can keep sleeping.”

The fact that he knew what the proeathans were didn’t seem to alter the memory of ‘what if’ too much. “ _Obey_ ,” Pluto said, “Or suffer the consequences.”

“Consequences of what? You can’t hurt me.” He wasn’t going to be controlled any more. Usually though when he made the ‘correct’ change he stopped living the groundhog day, moved to the next. This was the correct change. Wasn’t it?

Nothing happened, Pluto said nothing, Desmond didn’t move. Like they were two actors waiting for the next line. This… wasn’t the right change. He looked down at his hands, the glyphs were gone. He wasn’t the _stadalla_ , not yet at any rate. He was just Desmond, powerless, who didn’t command the AI of the proeathans. The AI who woke the proeathans and would stop at nothing to get them to wake.

That was the change.

Desmond went over to the pillar and pressed his hand to it. “What are you-“ there was the prick but Desmond didn’t pull his hand back as the machine took his blood. The machine drank and Desmond locked eyes with Pluto.

“You will not be waking the proeathans,” Desmond said.

“Excuse me?” Pluto asked.

“You will _not_ be waking the proeathans. At least until I say.”

“You get no say.”

“Wrong. You’re my AI now, I get all the say.”

“You presumptuous-

“Silence,” and Pluto’s mouth closed right up and he looked confused. “I won’t let this world end,” he said. It was his biggest mistake, the largest source of his guilt. That he’d allowed the deaths of nearly six billion people. “Not this time.” Pluto looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. “Bring my friends here, we’re going to figure this out.” Pluto did nothing. “I said do it!” Desmond snapped. Pluto scowled at him.

“Desmond?” he heard Ezio’s voice from the tunnel.

“Not so hard when you know who’s in charge huh?” Desmond said and Pluto just glared at him. “Big room,” he called back to them and finally took his hand off the pillar. He smiled when the others entered the room to various noises of shock and awe. It’d be different this time. He wouldn’t be alone this time.


	36. Circular Breathing

When Desmond came to he found himself laid out on the floor, back to a wall. It felt like he was coming up for air after holding his breath for a long time. His eyelids fluttered open and he was greeted by darkness.

Slowly he pushed himself up and looked around. He realized he had barely made it inside the room before he’d… fallen asleep? His head felt fuzzy, like it was full of cotton and it was hard to think.

“What happened?” he asked himself softly and pushed himself to his feet, having to use the wall to support himself. He looked around again and was once more met with darkness. He went into Eagle Vision, his head pounding. It cleared some of the dark fog but not nearly enough. He shook himself a bit, standing on his own, and looked through his dark vision.

The shadows receded but the darkness lingered. He could see at least. The room he was in was barely bigger than the Faceless cell he’d been in. On opposite sides of the room were two cots. He recognized D2 in one of them, sleeping under some covers with his mouth open, nearly snoring. In the other cot was another man that Desmond took a step away from when he recognized who it was. They were lying on their side on top of the blanket, their eyes wide open, unmoving and staring at nothing. There was a strange scar in the middle of their forehead, that weirdly enough reminded Desmond of a stab wound. But none of that was what concerned Desmond the most.

What concerned Desmond the most was that the man was Daniel.

“The Rat,” Tiamat’s voice brushed against his mind and he twisted around to locate her. “A mindless little vermin.” Desmond found Tiamat in the center of the little room. She was seated in an extravagantly plush chair, and she didn’t look like how Desmond remembered her. She was older, in her sixties he had to guess, her hair was still mostly black and she had wrinkles etched into her face. And her eyes. They were the color of ice. But not like Cain’s ice blue eyes. No, Tiamat’s were white as though rage had bleached her iris of color, leaving only a slightly darkened ring of grey around her pupil.

“Tiamat,” he said aloud. She put her finger to her lips. “Uh, like this?” he made the thought and it was a lot harder than he thought it should have been.

“It will suffice,” she said with her mind. “You did well, _stadalla_. Better and faster than I expected. How do you feel, deary?”

Desmond was taken aback, “You don’t know?”

“I know. But do _you_ know?”

Desmond thought on that. The most important thing he noticed was that the gaping hole in his chest he fed his guilt was remarkably smaller and didn’t feel quite so heavy. He felt… _good_. Desmond couldn’t remember the first time he’d felt good, like actually good and not just attempting to feel okay.

“I feel great,” he said. 

Tiamat smiled a bit. “Of course you do deary.”

“So, I did the first part, have you thought about me taking my clone?”

“Yes,” she said. “You may take him, because now I know you won’t abuse him.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You hated yourself. He is you in a different body. You wouldn’t have done it on purpose I’m sure, but you would have taken your own self hatred out on him. Now you won’t. So you can take him. On the condition-

“ _Another_ condition?” Desmond sighed.

“Yes,” she said, “Unless you’d like to return to Cain empty handed?” Desmond said nothing, he just sort of pouted. “My condition is you free me.”

Desmond blinked, “Free you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“… _Now_?” he clarified.

“If you can. If not, I understand,” she said. “But when you enter the Unnamed and hold its power in your hands, then you must free me.”

Desmond hesitated, “How do you know what the Unnamed can do?”

She smiled again, “Because deary, its how I became a telepath.”

“What?” he asked nervously.

“Before the fall of our kind the city of Atlantis existed, and at its heart was the Unnamed, a structure older than even us. Anyone who went into the Unnamed never came back out. We tried animals and humans and every master of _sikaz_ there was. Sometimes the animals returned, more often they did not.

“For thousands of years people tried to get into the Unnamed, to find its secrets. Our civilization grew more advanced. Eventually we created synthetics. First animals, than humans. We were surprised when the synthetic humans could enter the Unnamed and return alive, though close to death, as though they’d aged to the brink of their life spans. But they said there was nothing there, that the Unnamed was empty.

“Proeathans don’t know the when to stop. Surely it was just because humans had just weak senses that they saw nothing. Just an empty landscape as far as the eye could see along with the bones and bodies of the proeathans and humans who’d come before them. If a synthetic animal and human could withstand the Unnamed—“

Desmond’s eyes were huge, “Why couldn’t a synthetic proeathan?” he asked.

Tiamat smirked, “Indeed. Why not one? So they tried,” her smirk melted into a smile. “I have seen what lays inside the Unnamed. When I entered I barely knew a single _sikaz_ , when I left it I was a functioning telepath and telekinetic. The only one of my kind in hundreds of years, and the only proeathan to ever do both.

“So I know what I mean when I say you will hold the power of the Unnamed.”

But Desmond knew what they could mean for him, if he could just _bring_ Tiamat with him. “I need to speak with Cain,” he said, “I’ll see if we can just take you now.”

She smiled and was quiet for a moment, “He’s outside,” she said.

Desmond turned and yanked the door open. Cain was standing at the edge of the darkness. “Desmond,” he said and he honestly sounded relieved to see him.

Desmond went over to him, “I can take the clone. But is there any way you can think of that we can take her?”

Cain’s eyes narrowed, “No,” he said.

“I mean it Cain. She could help me-

“No,” Cain said again.

“Because you can’t, or you won’t?”

“Both,” Cain said. “Mars’ people are expecting three people, not four. She can’t come.”

“But-

“What is the point of making a plan if you won’t stick to it?” Cain asked. “You made a plan, follow the plan. Go get your clone, Tiamat is not coming.”

Desmond blinked at Cain and knew he was right. There was no way they could bring her. “Right,” he said and retreated back to Tiamat’s cell. “Sorry I-

“I know,” she said. “Take him, and remember our deal.”

“I will,” Desmond promised.

“Wake up Desmond,” Tiamat said aloud and Desmond looked at his clone. D2’s eyes opened. He buried his face in the thin pillow and Desmond heard a muffled ‘no’. “Be mindful of the rat,” Tiamat said in his mind again.

Desmond nodded and went over to D2’s cot. When he went to grab his clone’s arm he had to dodge a punch. D2 lurched out of his bed to tackle Desmond but Desmond was a better fighter. He had more practice. They scuffled on the floor for a minute before Desmond had D2 pinned and whining in pain from having his arm yanked up behind his back. Tiamat looked down at him with a look similar to sympathy.

“Don’t fight me,” Desmond said softly.

“Fuck off,” D2 growled.

“I know you hate it here. We’re getting you out of here.”

“For a horrible reason I’m sure,” D2 hissed when Desmond put more pressure on his arm.

“Keep resisting and I’ll just break it,” Desmond said.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Desmond said seriously, “I don’t have time for games Des.”

“Tiamat-“ D2 said and looking up at her pleadingly. Desmond guessed they had a telepathic conversation. Then D2 hung his head and stopped trying to get away. “Fine,” he whispered.

Desmond let him go slowly and got to his feet and hauled D2 to his feet as well. As he did he looked across the cell where Daniel was still lying, his eyes wide open like he’d been watching the entire thing, but not moving. “What about him?” he nodded at Daniel.

“The rat Chronos keeps here to watch me, make sure I don’t do anything stupid,” Tiamat said with her mind.

“Wouldn’t this be considered stupid?” he asked, gabbing D2’s arm roughly. D2 was looking at the floor.

“Chronos doesn’t care about the failure they made,” Desmond tried not to wince and glanced at D2 to see if Tiamat was broadcasting to him. She didn’t seem to be. “Its if I get… overly ambitious and make someone come rescue me,” she said. “Otherwise he doesn’t care, so long as I stay here.”

“Right,” Desmond thought slowly.

“I would leave now, the noise you made might wake him.”

“Okay,” and he tugged on D2’s arm, “lets go,” he said quietly. D2 went along meekly. “Don’t look so upset,” he said once they were outside, the door between Tiamat and them.

D2 looked right at him, “She told me why you want me,” and Desmond swallowed uncomfortably. “Fuck you.”

“You got him,” Cain said as Desmond pulled him into the light.

“Yeah, and he swears worse than me,” Desmond said.

Cain looked between the both of them, “Cloning is so upsetting in sentients,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he told D2.

“Sure you are,” D2 snapped.

Cain frowned at D2, “Lets go, our numia is waiting,” and he turned around. Desmond pulled D2 along but he barely had to.

The way out of Apollo was much the same as getting to Tiamat. “Hey Cain,” Desmond said as they neared the end of their journey through Apollo towards the hanger.

“Yes?”

“How long was I in there?”

Cain didn’t answer right away, “About five hours,” he said.

“What? Seriously?” Just five hours? It had felt like life times to Desmond.

“Yes— ah, here we are,” and they arrived at the hanger. There were lines of numia in the hanger, waiting to go. It was mostly empty of people save for three proeathans standing by a numia about the size of a private jet near the end of a line. They wore red and orange; Mars’ people. As they approached the proeathans turned and then started pointing behind the three of them urgently.

“Aw hell,” Desmond said when he looked over his shoulder.

“Go,” Cain said and pushed Desmond forward. Coming down the hall was Daniel and behind him were several decked out proeathans. Well, he guessed the Adjatevs knew he wasn’t still in his pod now.

Desmond dragged D2 with him to the numia where the proeathans spoke to him rapidly but Desmond just blinked at them. He had _no_ idea what they were saying. Eventually he and D2 were just shoved up a boarding ramp. Desmond looked back at Cain to see what had happened.

He didn’t know why he’d even felt the need to be worried. They were all already dispatched, though at this distance Desmond couldn’t tell if they were dead or not. Cain was walking quickly towards the numia and apparently knew the language of the Netall. “You’d think he’d stay dead,” he heard Cain mutter to himself as he went up to the cockpit. Desmond put his clone in a seat, strapping him in. D2 seemed to not give a fuck and just slouched like he was sixteen. “Desmond,” Cain called from up front.

“Yeah, commin’,” and he left D2 and went up to the cockpit.

“Sit. If Daniel’s there they know we’re trying to leave. They’re going to want to close the hanger doors,” Desmond sat and the numia hummed to life as Cain put his hands on the yoke. The numia lifted up off the ground gently and turned. As it did Desmond could see the proeathans Cain had handled. They were all down, but someone was getting up. Desmond paled a little. It was Daniel. He was standing, but his neck was the wrong way around on his body.

“Oh god,” Desmond said, staring even as the man twisted his head right way around. “What’d they do to him?” he couldn’t take his eyes away if he wanted to even as Daniel walked towards them, gun raised, shooting.

“Something unsightly,” Cain said, pressing a few buttons and then the numia streaked forward, jolting Desmond back into his seat. As they flew out of the hanger Desmond perceived them attempting to close. But they’d started too late.

Cain took them up at nearly a ninety degree angle up above the clouds before leveling out. “So… we did it,” Desmond said.

“Yeah,” Cain said and reached over ruffling his hair, “Finally came up with a plan that worked.”

“Oh fuck off,” Desmond batted his hand away. Cain didn’t smack him for that, the immortal just looked amused. “Won’t they try and come after us?”

“They’ll try,” Cain agreed, “a few might. This is one of the fastest numias in Apollo and our friends in Apollo are currently making it _very_ difficult to figure out _just_ which one is us,” and he nodded out the window. Desmond looked and his eyes widened in surprise. Three numia rose up on either side of him.

“Decoys,” Desmond said.

“Mhm,” Cain said.

“How hard was this to plan?” Desmond asked, since he hadn’t been privy to this part of the plan of their escape.

“I didn’t get you out until I knew we had an escape plan ready,” Cain said. “The Adjatevs only have the man power in Apollo to chase some of these numia and I’m sure Chronos knows it. They’ll have to pick the ones they think is us.”

“Elegant,” Desmond said.

“Sometimes my ideas are,” Cain said.

“So we’re headed for Demeter?” Cain nodded. Desmond looked back into the cabin of the numia. D2 was still slouched in his hair, looking at the wall. “He’ll need to be swept for bugs.”

“Both of you will,” Cain said and Desmond scowled at him a bit but knew Cain was right. “We’ll do that as soon as Altair’s done yelling at us for skipping out on them.”

“Uuhg, right,” Desmond said and raced the right way around again. “Long time to think of an excuse though,” he pointed out. Cain just chuckled.


	37. Of Course you Blame the Owl

The lake opened like a great, gaping, mouth when Cain flew over it. Desmond had slept most of the flight but was awake now, watching everything. 

“So you come up with a good excuse to tell Altair?” Desmond asked, since he had been sleeping.

“I figured the truth would work just fine,” Cain said.

“He won’t like it.”

“Altair doesn’t like anything. Which is a shame,” Cain frowned as they hovered over the mouth of Demeter.

“We going down in there?” Desmond asked when they didn’t move.

“No,” Cain said, “not yet. You both need to be swept for bugs and this numia needs to be scraped.”

“So then what are we doing?”

“Some of the Ilythians are coming up. They’ll determine if you’re safe.”

“I told Demeter not to let anyone out,” Desmond bristled a little, pissed that Demeter would just ignore his orders in favor for Cain.

“I had your clone tell her,” he said, “she didn’t know the difference.”

Desmond paused, “Oh,” that made sense. “How’d you do that?” D2 didn’t want _anything_ to do with them or what they wanted. Getting him our of Apollo was only the first hurtle. Putting him into the Animus would be the next.

“I am not without my secrets, kid,” he smirked.

Desmond leaned back against the chair, “Cain,” he said slowly, Cain ‘hmmed’, “was Altair always like this?”

Cain looked straight ahead, not looking at Desmond or at anything really, just staring at the horizon, “You mean paranoid? Suspicious? Controlling? Obsessive? No, he wasn’t. He used to be young, inquisitive, brilliant, and wanted to be told what to do because the world was large and he was afraid and sought comfort in knowing someone else knew more than him.  He was always suspicious of people and bad at making friend, but like his is now? Not even.”

“What happened?” Desmond asked.

“I think I happened,” Cain said with a touch of remorse. “I partially blame myself for him,” he paused and Desmond didn’t know if he would go on. “I encouraged him to use the Apple and I see now that that was a mistake. I thought he was enough proeathan to resist the Apple’s hatred and control it like I could, so I encouraged its use. Instead I fear the Angel corrupted him, and I have only myself to blame.”

“Seriously?”

“Up to a point. For a few decades at least. But the next centuries were all his doing. He resists change and resists letting anyone help him, no matter how often I tried.”

“He always told us you were evil,” Desmond said.

“There’s no such thing as evil, Desmond,” now Cain looked at him solemnly. “You know that right?”

“Well… I think Chronos is pretty fucking evil,” Desmond said.

“Chronos has three children and a wife, five brothers, and parents who are still very much alive. He’s the youngest of his siblings, they treat him like a baby and they love him very much. He sometimes walks the halls of Apollo and talks with the citizens and unlike other proeathans doesn’t mistreat the human slaves. He hates them but understands their value to their way of life. What do you think now?”

Desmond swallowed, “I mean… I don’t think sporadic acts of kindness negate monstrous behavior,” he said. “I know humans are capable of it, and they’re just people, but they’re still _evil_ by their majority actions. I don’t know why I should hold proeathans in a different regard.”

Cain’s lips curved into a slight smile, “You’ve gotten better. I’m proud of you,” his voice surprisingly gentle and Desmond was so floored he couldn’t say anything. “Also everything I just said about Chronos? I lied. He’s a monster,” Cain’s tone became hard again. “And he’s alone without a family or anyone. Which is why you’re better than him— ah, the Ilythians are finally here,” he looked forward and down. Desmond did as well and saw one of the elegant Ilythian numias rising up out of Demeter.

Cain pulled the numia back away from the lake as the numia rose. “Cain, this is Zorya, is the _stadalla_ with you?” Zorya’s crisp voice came over the numia’s speakers.

“I’m here,” Desmond said.

“Good. Follow our numia,” and the numia spun on its lateral axis and flew away from the lake.

“Who’s with you?” Desmond asked.

“Medics and technicians. Altair also insisted on coming along,” Zorya said.

“Great,” Desmond groaned.

“Well, no time like the present to deal with his temper tantrum,” Cain said in sarcastic mirth.

“He needs to get over himself.”

“Indeed,” Cain agreed.

“You’d think having a boyfriend would make him not be so touchy,” Desmond grumbled. “I thought sex was supposed to mellow someone out,” and next to him Cain laughed.

They flew for a while, flying south, until they left the plains and hit the forests of mid and southern Africa. There used to be huge plantations here full of orchards where fruit was hand picked by human hands. The forests had been clear cut by lumber milling machines in the first few years, and there were now huge scars in many parts of the world where the proeathans had just clear cut for proper farm land in the Old World for their plantations. Apparently the New World was mostly untouched because it was easier to transport goods and supplies across land than to cross the vast stretches of oceans to get to Apollo or the other bases. Desmond knew, from being told by Od, that two of the plantations in southern Africa had been liberated, and the proeathans were slow to retake this part of the world.

They landed in the shadow of trees that had survived the clear cutting. Cain opened the back and Desmond got out of his seat. D2 was still strapped in, his eyes were closed. Desmond went into the sixth sense and looked through the lens of the future. D2 wasn’t wavering at all, he was just sitting there. He blinked and was back in his normal sight.

D2 opened his eyes and looked up at Desmond when he approached, “We there?” he asked.

“No. We need to find any bugs we both may have,” Desmond said.

“Fantastic,” D2 sneered.

Desmond unstrapped him and hauled him to his feet. D2 didn’t resist, but he didn’t make it easy for Desmond and didn’t go along with him either. They left the numia and entered the warm summer air. Across from them the Ilythians were also getting off their numia. Desmond pulled D2 over to the Ilythians and heard Cain following behind until he stood in front of Zorya.

Zorya looked D2 over, “I see you found him. I’m impressed,” she said.

“We took him with the blessing of a goddess,” Cain said, coming up to stand behind Desmond.

“He was with Tiamat?” Zorya’s eyes narrowed. “She let him _go_?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, “Seemed she liked me. Now we’re going to see if the two of us are clean and get back to Demeter. I burned days we didn’t have time to spare in Apollo and Doomsday is still approaching.”

Zorya looked Desmond over now and for a moment went into the sixth sense. “You appear different _stadalla_ ,” she said.

“I’d hope so,” Desmond said. “Now lets get this over with.”

“Indeed. We will first inspect your clone and then yourself,” and Desmond handed D2 over to Zorya who led him away to where some other Ilythians were putting together things.

When she left it was just Cain and Desmond. Then Cain nudged him and he looked at the numia in time to see Altair come out of it. Next to all the Ilythians and Desmond and Cain Altair seemed diminutive. At least for a moment before he appeared to grow an entire foot as he came over to Desmond.

“Hey,” Desmond said when Altair was in front of him and he could tell without even going into the sixth sense that Altair was wavering between punching him and hugging him.

Instead he did nothing. “What were you thinking?” Altair growled.

“I was thinking that I needed to do something on my own,” Desmond said, “and that taking anyone else would have just held me back.”

“So you took _him_?” Altair accused, pointing at Cain.

Desmond looked at Cain and did feel a bit guilty. Altair had been there a lot longer than Cain, picking up the pieces of Desmond that he kept shedding and tried to put him back together with mixed results. “You couldn’t have helped me in Apollo. Cain could have. He was the best choice,” he tried to make it sound as rational as possible. “He can blend in, you can’t, sorry its just the truth.”

“And you just _left_ without telling anyone, without telling _me_ ,” and Desmond winced at the betrayal in Altair’s voice.

“You are not his keeper, Altair,” Cain spoke up, seeing Desmond was starting to break. “You were his guide at one time-

“No one is talking to you Cain, so shut the fuck up,” Altair snapped.

“Or what?” Cain asked.

“Cain, stop,” Desmond put his hand on Cain’s chest and pushed him away. “God you’re just as bad as him, stop antagonizing him,” he told Cain sternly. He turned back to Altair, “I’m not going to apologize for leaving without telling you, or for leaving. I am sorry I was gone for so long and made you worry so much. But I’m safe, and unhurt, and I know what I’m doing. So you’re just going to have to accept it the way it is because its done now.”

Altair scowled a moment before looking away, furious. Desmond just waited but he wasn’t going to calm down any time soon.

“Desmond,” Zorya called to him, “Its your turn.”

“Coming,” Desmond called back. “Both of your stay away from each other,” he warned the two ancients and then went over to Zorya. “Is my clone clean?” he asked.

“He will be. He had three separate bugs. One in his arm, one his spine, and one in his brain. My men are working on disabling the one in the brain till we get back to Demeter and can remove it.”

Desmond swallowed, “Okay, and me next?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Just stand still,” she said and he nodded mutely. 

An Ilythian came over to him with something that looked like a metal detector stick and started to wave it over his body. It didn’t do anything and he didn’t know if that was good or bad. The Ilythian frowned, shook the wand and smacked it. Desmond grinned, good to know that the tried and true method of hitting a device got it to work again. They waved it over Desmond again. Still no noise.

“ _He’s clean_ ,” they said to Zorya in their language.

“ _You’re joking.”_

_“No Sengar. He’s clean.”_

_“That’s impossible. No way those at Apollo would take him without putting a tracker in him.”_

_“I can’t detect any. Shall I try again?”_

_“No,”_ Zorya turned away from Desmond, “Hod _come here, you are needed_ ,” and Desmond watched as a rather short Ilythian left those who were working on his clone and came over. Desmond blinked in surprise. He’d never seen a disabled proeathan before. Hod had one eye and was missing a hand. His eyes had been replaced by a strange, black, stone that had odd etchings in it. His hand was silvery white and reminded Desmond somewhat of Hawk’s sword cone. Hod was also not an Ilythian. He was too pale, but Desmond didn’t know what he was since he wore the same uniform attire as all the other Ilythians he’d ever seen.

“ _What is it my Sengar?”_ Hod asked.

“Ull _says that the_ stadalla _is not bugged.”_

_“But you don’t trust Chronos to let him be clean?”_

_“I only trust Chronos as far as I can punt him. And I can’t punt that bastard very far.”_

_“Very well, lets see what it is_ ,” and Hod turned to Desmond. Desmond nearly took a step back. Hod’s one remaining eye turned blue, but then the black one erupted into graphic lines around a large yellow dot in the middle like a pupil. Desmond felt himself being scanned and wondered what he looked like.

“ _Well_?” Zorya asked after several tense moments.

 _“He is clean_ ,” Hod agreed then he turned to Zorya, “ _The_ stadalla _is more strange than I imagined,”_ he sounded a bit in awe.

“ _Thank you Hod.”_ Hod nodded to Zorya and left.

“Who was that?” Desmond asked once Hod had gone back over to the group working on D2.

“Our best doctor,” Zorya said. “I’m sure you heard him say you’re clean.”

“Okay,” Desmond said and didn’t know if he believed that but there wasn’t much he could do to say about it. “What was up with his eye?”

“He lost it in the War and they gave him a new one, a better one,” Zorya said.

“He isn’t Ilythian,” Desmond said.

“He was an Adjatev, and they wanted him to experiment on humans. He said no and they banished him. We picked him up on our search for you. He’s Ilythian now.”

“Fair enough,” Desmond said, “so other than waiting on my clone we’re good to go?”

“Yes,” Zorya said.

“Great. Cain said we’ll leave his numia here,” she nodded.

“ _Stadalla_ ,” she said when he made to go back to Cain and Altair, “I’m glad to see you return. Some of us thought we’d let you go to your doom.”

“I don’t die that easy,” he smirked. She smiled a little but was ill fit on her face, like she didn’t smile often. “I’m clean,” Desmond announced to the two immortals.

“Good,” Cain said, “one less thing to worry about. Right Altair?”

Altair just glared at Cain, “Desmond,” he said instead, looking at him, “come with me a moment.”

Desmond was leery, “You’re not going to get mad are you?”

“No,” Altair said and then stepped away from Cain, beckoning. Desmond glanced at Cain, who only shrugged, before following him. Altair led him up into the Ilythian numia. It was empty save for the pilots who were in the cockpit up front.

“So what was it?” Desmond asked.

Suddenly Altair’s finger was in his face, “Don’t you _ever_ pull a stupid stunt like that again. Do you know how worried you made us?” he demanded. Then all the wind rushed out of Desmond when Altair hugged him. Desmond hugged him back briefly before Altair pulled back and then gave him a little shake. “Or at least fucking tell me. I don’t want to hear you’re gone from Lucy again. Got it?” 

Desmond couldn’t help the smile he wore, “Yeah Altair, I got.”


	38. Ophanim

There was a group of people waiting for them in the bottom of Demeter when Desmond stepped out of the numia. He saw Ezio and Hawk, but also Jake, Clay, Rebecca, Shaun and to his surprise he also saw his dad. Od and Inti were also there, waiting. After a quick scan he also found Lucy. He smiled when he saw her but weirdly didn’t feel that overly warm bubbly feeling he was used to.

“Hey guys,” Desmond called, “miss me?”

“Like a rash,” Jake said, coming over to him and hugged him. “We were worried sick,” and then Desmond was passed off to Ezio who cracked his back he hugged him so tightly.

“I’m sure Altair’s already said this,” Ezio said, “But don’t ever-

“Do something that stupid again,” Desmond sighed.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Ezio said sternly and then hugged him again. It was a long hug and from anyone but Ezio it would have been awkward, but not with Ezio. Being hugged by Ezio was like being hugged by a stuffed animal, warm and surprisingly squishy.

When Ezio finally let him go Hawk gave him a brief, light, hug. “You look different,” Hawk said.

“I feel different,” Desmond grinned.

“No, I mean… you look better,” and Hawk smiled.

“I am,” Desmond said, “I’m a lot better.”

“Good,” and Hawk’s smile wasn’t fake or forced. He knew how much Desmond hurt from what had happened five years ago, and to be _better_ than that. It was like a wish come true. He wasn’t cured, but he wasn’t a wreck. He’d already been in the process of helping himself through that, forgiving himself. But now it was like he’d been able to accelerate it and the guilt he felt didn’t cripple him if he wasn’t careful and it snuck up on him without warning.

Clay and Shaun didn’t hug him, but they shook hands, grabbing Desmond high up on his forearm. Shaun gave him an additional fond pat on the back. Rebecca hugged him though and also scolded him by going, “Will you just _stop_ running off and freaking me out? I’m seriously going to go grey at this rate.”

“You mean like Shaun?” Desmond smirked.

“Oy! Right here,” Shaun snapped.

“Sorry. Can’t help it,” he smirked.

Then last was Lucy. She didn’t _look_ mad about him kissing her before he left. She even hugged him, so it all was turning out pretty okay. When she let him go he didn’t even see it coming.

Lucy nailed him, right on the jaw, with probably the most vicious right hook he’d ever experienced in his life. She nearly bowled him over because there was absolute _fury_ in her fist. She was _livid_ and when he looked at her he knew it. She pointed at him accusingly, “Do something like that again and its over,” she said with more wrath, fire, and brimstone than even Altair. Lucy jabbed him in the chest with her finger and then stormed off.

“What the fuck… Lucy!” Jake called after her.

“What is wrong with her?” Rebecca asked.

“No its cool,” Desmond said, tenderly touching his jaw. “I totally deserved that.”

“What’d you do?” Jake asked.

“Uh… answer for another time! Od, great to see you,” he moved on from the awkward question of him kissing Lucy.

“ _We’re glad you’re home safe_ stadalla _. Zorya informed us you met with Tiamat?”_ Od said, shaking Desmond’s hand firmly and holding it.

 _“Yes_.”

 _“What deal did you make?”_ Od was nearly accusingly.

_“What makes you think I made any deal?”_

_“There’s always a catch with her. Tiamat gives away nothing for free_ ,” and he squeezed Desmond’s hand nearly to the point of pain, his yellow eyes intense.

 _“If I_ did _make a deal with Tiamat, that is between me and her. I really don’t think its any of your business_ Ando,” Desmond said flatly and then pulled his hand back.

“ _It is proeathan business. I am your proeathan advisor, it is my business.”_

 _“Oh, but we both know she isn’t_ really _a proeathan. At least not in the conventional sense,_ ” and Od flinched, so did Inti. They both had _known_ and hadn’t told him. “ _I trust you,”_ he told Od, _“But the_ stadalla _has secrets he keeps to himself._ ”

Od frowned but didn’t disagree, _“Fine_ ,” he grunted. “ _Me and mine will be waiting if you need us_ ,” and then he motioned to Inti and they both went over to the numia where the other Ilythians were disembarking.

“So,” Desmond said, turning back to the humans, “What I miss while I was away?”

“Lot of nothing. We ran drills, trained, the rank and file didn’t notice your absence,” Ezio said.

“Good,” Desmond nodded, that was how he wanted it. He didn’t want to be visible. He wanted the others to continue to run the show as they always had for the most part. Now there was just a conductor at the head of the orchestra and not just everyone trying to play with each other, keep in time to the beat of a percussion who didn’t even know the score. “And now we have him,” he motioned to D2 who was standing between two big Ilythians looking pissed off. “Now we can find Eve.”

“Go to hell,” D2 said.

“Huh,” Shaun said, “Reminds me of Lucy telling us about your time with Vidic.”

“He’s me five years ago, sans growing the fuck up,” Desmond said. D2 just glared at him. “Is the Animus ready, Rebecca?” he asked.

She gnawed on her lower lip, “It is,” she admitted after a moment, “we were trying to find Eve among the people in Demeter and drop them in.”

“Any luck?”

“Few could locate her, so we know the time period but any of the people who we dropped in nearly instantly desynced.”

“We’ll work with that,” Desmond said, “First he needs to get debugged.”

“Debugged?” Shaun asked, “I thought they were doing that outside.”

“He’s got on in his brain,” Desmond said, “They needed Demeter to get it out.”

“Ah,” Shaun nodded a bit.

“We’ll take him now,” Od said, coming back over. “The sooner we do the sooner we can know what that woman _really_ did to our world,” he said distastefully.

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed and looked at his clone and the two Ilythians at his side, “ _Don’t hesitate to smack him if he acts out. I know I would,”_ and that made the two guards smirk.

 _“Fuck you_ ,” D2 growled in Ilythian.

“ _With how grumpy you are I’d want to too. Sorry you missed out my more recent memories of my sex life,”_ and he’d never seen someone so enflamed. Before D2 just looked like he hated him. Now D2 legitimately looked like he wanted to _murder_ him. Desmond tucked that reaction away for later. Od took D2 away and Rebecca followed, wanting to watch.

“So we’re all set then?” Jake asked.

“Seems like,” Desmond nodded.

“Where’s Altair and Cain?” Ezio asked, looking around.

“Uhh,” and everyone’s head started to move around, looking for the two ancients. “I don’t know, I swear they were _right_ behind me,” Desmond said.

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and they just killed each other so we can have a few hours of peace,” Shaun muttered.

“Babies,” Jake scoffed. “I’ll go find Altair,” he sighed and went towards the ship to track him down.

“So are we all good now?” Ezio asked Desmond.

“We should be. With my clone we’ll have access to all my memories without putting me in danger.”

“One thing,” Hawk said.

“What?”

“You have a block, like Clay and Jake, which prevents the Bleed. Only people with a block can access memories that far back in their DNA without either being kicked out or if they’re already Bled through a great deal,” Hawk said.

“So then we’ll just have Altair put a block in,” Desmond said.

“But block what? How can you block something that’s not overflowing?”

Desmond blinked slowly, “Well he has a simulated Bleed from my memories,” he said.

“Simulated isn’t the same as the real thing,” Hawk reminded him.

“So are you saying that if we actually want to have any use out of that bastard we have to run him through the Animus enough till he starts Bleeding through, put a block on him and _then_ we can find Eve?” Shaun exclaimed.

“I believe so,” Hawk said.

“ _Great_ ,” Shaun said sarcastically.

“That won’t take long,” Desmond said, “I started Bleeding in three days with only a few hours each day.”

“Yes but Rebecca has been working on the Animus. The cut isn’t that deep anymore. Its nearly completely safe,” Shaun said, “to get him to a state that he’d Bleed substantially enough to need a block on him would take a long time.”

“Like how long?”

“At the current state of the Animus? _Months_.”

“Well we don’t have months,” Desmond said shortly. “As it is we barely have months to prepare for the invasion of Atlantis, let alone learn one thing from some old dead lady. There has to be a way to accelerate it.”

Shaun frowned, “not without reinstalling old software, that might not even run on the new hardware.”

“Well then try,” Desmond said. “Or go to the edge of what he can handle. You said yourself the cut is deeper the further back in time you go.”

“I mean… I guess we could. We’d be running blind,” Shaun said uneasily.

“Just, get it done,” Desmond said, “I don’t really care how. Just get it done. We need to know what Eve knew, to see what she saw.”

“We could break him Desmond-

“So?” Desmond just short of snapped. “That sure as shit didn’t stop you before when it was me in that damn things and you broke _me_.”

Shaun was a bit pale, “We didn’t mean to,” he insisted.

“Just do it Shaun, I don’t want excuses. I want results. Or do you not want to save our planet because you have weird gentle feelings about my clone. Which, I might add, probably wants to kill you along with me since back then I was _pissed_ at you guys for what you did to me, accidentally or not. And unlike me he hasn’t grown and forgiven you, he’s still pissed off.”

Shaun swallowed, “Right,” and then he fled.

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh on him?” Ezio asked.

“I don’t have time to be nice,” Desmond said. “I did. I don’t anymore.”

Ezio gave him a concerned look, “So I know Altair’s not the _best_ role model for leadership, and I’m not really either. But I found you get more things done with honey than vinegar.”

Desmond looked at the ground, “I know. I just… I need it done. No excuses.”

“Do you think your father felt this way when he told them to put you in the Animus?” Hawk asked.

Desmond turned a sharp glare on Hawk, “Do _not_ talk to me about Andrew,” he hissed. “I am nothing like him. I will never be like him. Ever!”

“He expected it done too, no excuses,” Hawk wasn’t intimidated, Ezio just looked a little wary.

“That clone is not my son,” Desmond said, “it shouldn’t exist in the first place. I didn’t ask for it to be made. Andrew… had an active part of my creation,” he admitted spitefully. “But that’s all he is to me. He isn’t my father.” Hawk looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t.

“So you’re okay with doing these things to your clone?” Ezio asked. “Even though he’s basically you?”

“They’ve already been done to me, Ezio,” Desmond said. “As much as I like you and Altair, your lives were hell. You made me die hundreds, if not thousands of times. Whatever my clone has to be put through, whatever mediocre norm he has to live through to start the Bleeding process, pales to what I and everyone in that Animus project had to go through. So yes, I’m fine letting him go through it.”

“Even if it might break him?”

“It broke me. I got fixed didn’t I?” and Ezio had no answer for that. “I don’t have time for hand holding. Not with knowing the proeathans will be more aggressive in a few months and I need to make sure we’re _ready_ to go to Atlantis.”

“I guess,” Ezio sighed in submission.

“It needs to be done, and the entire reason I went to Apollo in the first place is because we all agreed it’d be stupid to put me back in the Animus. And I refused out right anyway.”

“And what if he refuses?” Hawk asked. “You can’t make someone use the Animus. They can just stand there and do nothing.”

“If it comes to that I’ll think of something. I do things when people push hard enough.”

Ezio frowned, “All right,” he said. “If you feel that’s best.”

“I do,” Desmond said.

“Okay,” he huffed a bit.

“Hey guys!” they all turned when Jake called them, he was in another door of the hanger, “I found them.”

“They dead?” Hawk called back.

Jake laughed, “Yes!”

“Idiots,” Desmond huffed.

“You’d think they’d learn by now,” Ezio said.

“You kidding? This is Altair, like he’s going to _learn_ ,” Desmond said sarcastically.

“Well, we better go deal with that before one of the civilians find them. Wanna help?” Ezio asked Desmond.

“Sure,” Desmond said and followed after Ezio to where Jake was standing over two dead bodies. Cain had a pierced jugular and Altair looked like he’d been strangled. All the blood on the ground belonged to Cain. Altair had stabbed Cain and with his last strength Cain had either broken his neck or suffocated Altair. Cain had fallen on top of Altair and bled all over the place.

Desmond frowned a little. He wished they didn’t try and kill each other all the time. If they could _work_ together they’d be unbeatable. Instead they insisted on fighting against each other. For a moment Desmond remembered the fake memory of his own brother. What would they have been like had Duncan been alive? It sure as shit wouldn’t be smooth sailing either. They were both too stubborn to work perfectly together, not as opposites as Cain and Altair of course but there’d be some conflict. Maybe that was just how it was with brothers. There was always conflict, even when they loved each other. He knew Cain loved Altair still but Altair hated Cain. Or appeared to. In Desmond’s memory he’d loved Duncan, and Duncan had loved him but they still argued about what was right or wrong. Unlike these two though in Desmond’s false memories their arguments never devolved to murder.

“Well this is a mess,” Ezio said.

“Yeah,” Jake sighed. “I’ll get the big one, you carry the shrimp.”

“I’m telling Altair you call him shrimp when he’s Under,” Desmond said as Jake rolled Cain off Altair. Cain was smiling. But not like Altair did when he killed. He looked amused, not happy. “Creeeeeeeppy,” Desmond said.

“Oh you should see them when they spar,” Jake said as he put his hands under Cain’s pits. “Grab his legs,” he added to Desmond who did. “They look like they _enjoy_ beating the shit out of each other.”

“Because they do,” Ezio said, picking Altair up from the pool of blood. “Which I don’t mind at all. Means Altair’s got a punching bag that isn’t one of us.”

“Amen to that!” Jake said. “Now lets get these two somewhere so they can Wake up in peace-

“And then eat their weight in food,” Ezio sighed. “You’d think they’d be more aware of that since it isn’t like we have unlimited food here.”

“Ah they’re fine,” Jake said. “Ready Des?” Des nodded. “Lets go then,” and the three of them carried the two ancients away from where they’d fallen. Demeter would self clean that spot once they’d left.


	39. Crashing

Once Desmond had seen to his clone and been told by Demeter that such a procedure would take time he went to find something to do. Mainly he wanted human food. He wanted _meat_.  Beans and tofu the proeathans ate had the protein he needed but god it was so fucking boring. He destroyed two burgers and it was _awesome_.  Savior of the world, lover of cheese burgers. Seemed about right.

When he was done with that Desmond found a place he could be alone. He hadn’t really had a lot of time to be alone in a while. While he’d been away he’d been alone constantly. It had given him a lot of time to think. Since he’d returned to Demeter it seemed like someone always needed him, or he always had to be doing something. Even in Apollo he was never just alone, someone was always around, or he was sleeping.

He found an empty garden and went in. This one was growing sixteen different types of tomatoes. The vines were heavy with the red vegetables and were ready to be picked soon. Humans in Demeter who weren’t part of the army were responsible for harvesting of all the food the people needed and maintaining a general level of cleanliness in the ark. But for now the garden was empty, and Desmond was alone.

With a grunt he found somewhere to sit, under a lattice of grape tomatoes with fruit the size of his thumb. Like most of the gardens in Demeter there was a level of grass around the plants. He didn’t understand the purpose, but he assumed there was one if Demeter had decided to put the grass everywhere. The grass was springy, sort of like moss in thickness, but not rough.

Desmond made himself comfortable and then closed his eyes, breathing on a specific rhythm. Slowly in, and slowly out. On his journey across the planet all by himself he’d taught himself to meditate. Mainly to clear his head of racing thoughts, stress, and anxiety, so he could sleep. Sadly it didn’t help with the nightmares and lucid dreams he’d been having lately. The ones that had made him seek out the safety of Lucy’s room to sleep. He winced thinking about that. He probably wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. No, don’t think about that. He was here to not worry about anything.

After a few breaths Desmond had effectively made his mind blank. He just focused on the sound of his breathing and his heart beat. He was alive now. Didn’t know how long that would last, but he was alive now and he was doing his best. That was the important part.

As he meditated he felt like he was floating and that he floated up and up and up. He found himself then not in a garden in Demeter, but in the star field he sometimes dreamed about. Since he wasn’t dreaming everything was clear. His AI were standing around, talking. Then one noticed him and they all turned and looked at him.

“What are you doing here?” Venus asked through Altair’s mouth. “You’re not sleeping you shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know,” Desmond said truthfully. This had never happened before, it was weird. But then he’d never meditated in Demeter before, only on the road, out in the wilderness. He looked around and saw all the stars. He realized, because he wasn’t in the sleepy half understanding dream state, that the stars he was used to were fewer than the first time he’d seen them. 

He remembered the first dream he’d remembered of this place. There had been countless nebula and stars creating unknown constellations across the sky. But now there weren’t as many stars. In fact, most of the sky and even under his feet was filled with black space. With the clear understanding of being here while awake Desmond realized what he hadn’t before. These weren’t stars. They were people. Humans. It reminded him of that X-men movie with the machine that let Professor X see everyone in the world. Each star was a person here. 

There had been about seven billion a few years ago.

Now there were only about a million.

It made the sky very dark indeed. “You shouldn’t be here,” Pluto said.

“Probably,” Desmond said. “Wherever here is.”

“Go back.” Morpheus said. “Open your eyes.”

Desmond’s eyes opened. He was once more in the tomato garden. “Demeter,” he said.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“Was I someplace I shouldn’t have been?”

“Yes, Desmond,” she said again.

“My bad. I was just trying to get some quiet.”

“I know. Cain and Altair are awake. Cain is looking for you. Shall I send him to you or say you aren’t to be disturbed?”

Desmond sighed, “How much quiet did I get Demeter?”

“About an hour,” she said.

“All right,” with a grunt he pulled himself to his feet, using the lattice to help him. “I’ll meet with him,” and he headed for the door to Demeter saying she’d send Cain in the correct direction.

Desmond liked this garden though. There was something weirdly peaceful about being surrounded by so many red spheres that hung so thick on their vines they drooped. So he stayed near the entrance but still actually in the garden. Cain came after a few minutes of waiting.

“Ah, there you are,” he said as a way of greeting.

“What is it?” Desmond asked.

“I was just checking in,” Cain said nicely. “Jake told me you helped him carry me somewhere to Wake peacefully.”

“Yeah,” Desmond shrugged.

“Don’t take this a weird way,” Cain started. “What did I look like?”

“You looked happy you fucking weirdo,” and that made Cain laugh. He didn’t scold Desmond for the curse either. At least the old bastard knew when situations called for a good swear.

“Ah, yes,” Cain said. “I always enjoy putting Altair in his place whenever possible.”

“Couldn’t even wait to get out of the hanger though?” Desmond rose his brow at Cain.

“If you must know Altair started it,” Cain said. Even coming from the mouth of an ancient like Cain still sounded like a school kid’s whining.

“Sure he did.”

“I just finished it.”

“You know that isn’t nearly as cool sounding as a lot of people think it is,” Desmond said, sucking his teeth a bit.

“Desmond,” Demeter chimed in, “I should inform you that Altair is _also_ looking for you.”

“For what?” Desmond asked, giving Cain a look.

“He wishes to discuss what happened at Apollo,” Demeter said and Desmond barely held back a wince. “Shall I send him here?”

Desmond huffed and looked at Cain who just rose his brows at Desmond. “Yeah, sure, please Demeter,” Desmond said. “You should probably get. I really don’t want to deal with your corpses again.”

“I will be on my behavior,” Cain smirked and Desmond cursed to himself. Of course Cain would want to stay. “Besides, you were in a pod for ten days, and things happened. I’m sure he’ll want to know.”

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed but wasn’t happy about it. “Cain,” he said after they were silent for a moment. “I only knew Altair when he was mortal, and then the past two years or so,” he didn’t mention when he’d been a little boy and Altair had been at the Farm. He didn’t remember that time.

“Yes?”

“Has he always been such a control freak?”

That amused Cain greatly, “No. He used to be quite nice, when we were close. Then he left and started to fear everything.”

“Fear? You’re kidding?”

“No. Altair is afraid. Of many things, though the exact things I’m not exactly sure. He’s old enough to want to be alone, but not old enough to have accepted the fact that he will be alone. He’s a very complicated man.”

“Pfft, you’re telling me. But really, control freak?”

“He thinks if he can control everything he’ll have nothing to be afraid of. He wants to know everything, so he can have a plan. Sadly, most of his plans are stupid. He’s honestly a very poor leader. He’d rather be told what to do.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. He was raised a soldier. You ever notice how all his plans always fuck up? You most of all are on the receiving end of Altair’s failed plans or lack of thought in making them.” 

Desmond frowned at that. “But he tries,” Desmond said.

“He does,” Cain agreed. “But he’s still blinded by his own ego, and fear. He can’t see what he’s doing half the time. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Desmond was confused.

“It just… it could have been different if Altair hadn’t been so set in casting me in the role of the villain.”

The door hissed open, they both looked. Altair came in with a serious cast to his face and while he didn’t look angry he was intense and his brow was a bit furrowed. Desmond hunched a bit. He might have gotten his clone and returned safely but he’d just left without telling Altair, without a single word and he’d been gone nearly three weeks. Altair would want to know everything that had happened. Cain’s fake betrayal would be just the start of Altair’s anger during this telling.

“Don’t slouch,” Cain said, reaching around and pressing his hand to Desmond’s spine. “You did the right thing.”

“Yeah but-

“You were right,” Cain told him firmly, cutting him off. “Don’t let him let you think your decisions are wrong when he’s been making the wrong ones for centuries,” and Cain’s eyes narrowed. Altair was coming over to them now.

Despite Cain’s reassurances, Desmond swallowed.

Then Altair was in front of them. “You got a lot of explaining to do kid,” and it made him slouch again.

“Uh,” he said lamely. Man where did he even begin? At the beginning, maybe. It was just a lot, and Altair wouldn’t like a lot of it. He probably also still wanted some sort of apology for just flaking off.

“He owes you no explanation,” Cain said. “Of his motives or what we were up to Apollo.”

“Amazingly enough Cain, this isn’t about _you_ ,” Altair snapped at him.

“Oh, we’re going to be juvenile now?” Cain asked and physically got between Desmond and Altair. “How about that it isn’t about _you_ , Altair,” Cain’s voice was cool and oily.

“Its never been about me, its always been about him,” Altair said. Cain laughed. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Ha Ha Ha Ha,” Cain said mirthlessly into Altair’s face. “The fact that you believe that makes me worry about how _stupid_ you really are.” Altair threw a punch, Cain dodged and struck him. He didn’t even punch Altair, he just back handed him so hard Desmond was sure Umar would have felt it. It reminded Desmond of Al Mualim, so long ago, striking Altair and stripping him of rank. “You need to learn some respect,” Cain said angrily. Desmond had never seen Cain angry before. It wasn’t like Altair’s, or Desmond’s. It was a subtle thing like a shadow or a trick of the light. “Or maybe search that pit of despair you call your soul and look at what you’re made of.”

“I know what I’m made of,” Altair growled back.

“Oh, what is it then? Rot? Self loathing? Guilt?” Cain challenged. Desmond felt himself being pushed out of the conversation. He realized then that Cain hadn’t come here for Desmond. He’d come here because he knew Altair would come. Desmond wondered if they were finishing the conversation that had ended up with both of them going Under.

“Shut up.”

“Or _what_?” Cain demanded. “Going to put me Under? Or maybe you’ll lock me in that fucking box again!” Cain raised his voice a bit but when Cain was always so normally mild mannered it was like he was yelling.

“Not that you didn’t deserve it-

“If anyone deserved that prison, Altair: it was you,” and Altair stared at Cain looking momentarily lost. “You did this.”

“No you did,” Altair snapped, on the offensive again. “You turned into a monster, Cain.”

“Then what are you?” Cain’s voice was still raised, and Altair’s volume was going up too. “If I’m such a monster than what does that make you oh great flying eagle of Masyaf?” he said meanly. “If I am such a monster who killed a few whores, what are you who bathes in blood and then tries to call himself a saint?”

“I am not a saint,” Altair said, “but I don’t kill for pleasure like you.”

Cain’s grin was mad and wild, Desmond tried to slink away from them a bit. If they were going to fight he didn’t want to be here to see it. This was an argument they should be having in private, and especially not in front of Desmond. Cain noticed him moving and turned to look at him, Desmond froze. “Stay,” Cain said with such authority Desmond couldn’t move.

“No Desmond, you can leave if you want,” Altair said.

“If he wants?” Cain said mockingly, back to Altair. “Since when have you ever cared what he wants?”

“That’s all I care about!” Altair’s volume went up louder than Cain’s. “I have waited centuries for him!”

“You have _wasted_ centuries!” Cain yelled back now and Desmond really couldn’t move. He was like a deer caught in high beams. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t look away. All he could do was watch as two trains collided. “And then you just _left_ him when he needed you.”

“I watched over him. He was safe,” Altair was yelling back now, a tiny ball of rage all directed at Cain like a canon ball.

“You let his brother _die_ ,” and Desmond felt that like a blow to the chest. Altair stared back at Cain, stunned for a moment, as affected as Desmond had been.

“I didn’t come in time,” Altair said, his voice weak for a moment. “Hawk saw it… I wasn’t quick enough,” his hurt was genuine, but so was his next anger. “I did not want Duncan to die!”

“Then you shouldn’t have left them there,” Cain yelled. “Wait eight hundred years and then leave them to the wolves. Yes, you must love them very much to let some nothing, worthless, entity, like Andrew keep them.”

“You don’t know anything!” Altair yelled back. “I did what I thought was right.”

“When will you get through your thick dumb skull that everything you thought was right, was wrong? You ruined the entire world, Altair! You ruined the boy you waited eight hundred years for with your fear! You ruined Ezio and Micheal with your selfishness! You ruined _us_! You left me!” Cain was now just screaming at Altair. “You left me after everything I did for you! WHY!?” 

Altair just stared up at Cain, having lost his voice. Desmond had never seen Altair appear so small. Even though he was short he usually appeared so tall, so grand, seven feet at least. Now he wasn’t. Cain was a huge summer thunder head that cracked with lightning, whipped rain and wind and Altair was a flimsy umbrella before him.

“I did everything for you,” Cain wasn’t done. “I took you under my wing. I treated you like my equal when no one had been that in centuries. I made you my brother. I _loved_ you. You were what I’d been waiting for nearly three thousand years for. I gave you the world! And what did you do with it?” Desmond had never seen anyone so angry. So absolutely enraged and hurt as Cain. Altair felt it too. “You gave it back! What is _wrong_ with you Altair?” 

If Desmond didn’t know any better he swore Cain was about to start crying. But he was too angry for tears. Desmond could hear it in his voice though. A grief he’d never settled because he didn’t know _where_ he’d gone so wrong. “What is wrong with you, Abel?” and Cain’s volume dropped dramatically.

Altair just stared back, saying nothing, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“No excuses for once?” Cain asked, his volume normal now, but after the screaming it sounded like a whisper. “Or is it like everything else? And you just don’t know what it is that’s so broken,” and Desmond wanted to look away. He felt like he was intruding on this moment, on seeing such strong men being so vulnerable and exposed. But Desmond couldn’t move even if he wanted, couldn’t look anywhere but Altair and Cain.

Altair just watched Cain’s face, but said nothing. Cain just looked hurt. “If you have nothing to say, get out. Before I put you Under again,” Cain growled, at the end of what he could handle.

“I’m sorry,” Altair said, so softly Desmond barely heard it.

“What?” Cain asked, he thought he’d imagined that as much as Desmond. Desmond had heard Altair apologize once ever. It had been to Malik all those years ago in Jerusalem about how he’d let Kadar die, and took Malik’s arm. To hear Altair apologize and _mean it_ wasn’t something that happened lightly. Maybe he’d done it since then but it had never been for something so important.

“I’m sorry,” Altair said again, louder this time and Desmond could tell how much he meant it.

Cain was only marginally impressed. He poked Altair hard in the chest, “Be better,” he said, angry still and then stalked off. Altair didn’t go after him and neither did Desmond when Cain left. Altair just continued to stand there, looking like his world was ending.

“Altair?” Desmond asked when Altair didn’t move for nearly five minutes. The immortal literally jumped a few inches, he’d forgotten Desmond was there. “You okay?” he asked, his voice sounded weak and thin to his own ears.

Altair stared at him, blinked, and then walked over to him. Desmond got a surprise when Altair hugged him tightly. Desmond hugged him back since it was _Altair_ who needed the hug. He could hear Altair breathing in his ear, deep and long. Desmond knew that kind. It was to help you to not cry. That sobered Desmond considerably. Altair had told him he cried, that he was human after all. But he always seemed so untouchable. Above basic human things like eating or sleeping or _crying_.

“Altair,” Desmond said, not letting him go. “Do you remember what you told me on Hawk’s island?”

“No. What’d I tell you?” Altair asked, his voice shaking a bit.

Now Desmond did let him go and put the shorter man at half arm’s distance. “A man should be allowed to cry on his own time without being judged. You can talk to me later, I’ll be here,” he said it partially to reassure Altair that unlike Cain Desmond didn’t hate him. Then he took his hands off Altair and walked away. He knew Altair would never break down while he was around, he’d never let himself be that weak. So he’d let Altair cry by himself. Which was what he’d want. He wouldn’t let himself appear so weak around anyone, least of all Desmond. But Desmond knew he needed it, and so Desmond needed to leave.

“Desmond,” Altair called when he’d made it to the door.

Desmond turned and looked at him. He didn’t need to go into the sixth sense to know the future now. He knew what would happen as soon as he left this room. “Yeah?” he asked.

“I love you,” Altair said.

Desmond smiled. Altair had never told him that and he knew it was for both of their benefits. “Love you too Altair,” and then he walked out the room. “Demeter,” he said, once the door was closed.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“No one goes into that room until Altair comes out. And I don’t want any of you watching the inside. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Desmond,” his AI said together.

“Good,” and after a moment of wondering if he should wait or leave. He walked away from the door.


	40. Not Quite Peachfaced

Desmond was careful when he found Jake and Lucy training with their soldiers. Human soldiers. Neither of them were ‘special enough’ to be trained by the Ilythians. That was despite the fact that Lucy could do something. Neither of them were quite sure _what_ , but she could do something. The Ilythians rejected any claim that was made that she could, by chance, be some sort of psychic. Humans weren’t psychic they said. Proeathans were psychic, and so were their bastard halfbreed children that humans had become. Or at least they had a small capacity for it in some small way if the right conditions were met.

Sometimes Desmond thought it was pretty convenient that only the proeathans were the psychics, and not both species. Like it was some grand design. Well none of them except Desmond was psychic. But he was a special snowflake and didn’t really count.

Neither of them noticed him at first, which he didn’t mind. Standing all in black in the back, out the way, he was more like a shadow than a man. He had his hood down now but was otherwise covered head to toe, even his hands. Since the instructors didn’t notice him neither did the soldiers. They were busy watching Lucy and Jake disarm and throw a proeathan the ground in awe.

Different techniques had to be developed and trained into the men to fight proeathans. They were about a foot taller than most people and what worked on people your height or smaller often didn’t work for taller people. And of course the Ilythian being the punching bag was also covered in full body armor, so they were about thirty pounds heavier on top of being heavier already. Bigger bodies, bigger bones, bigger brains, bigger muscles; everything was bigger, and you had to compensate for that. Which is what the current training was about apparently. Desmond just watched.

Once Lucy and Jake had demonstrated a few times everyone had to come do it. The little class formed up to practice the take down. For a second Desmond wasn’t in Demeter. He was in Rome and all his students were lined up wanting to have their own chance to racing with his best archers. The summer sun baked the plaza on Tiber Island where targets were set up and three of his best archers were hanging around bows loose in their hands. Then a young, dark skinned man with a massive bow had come forward to try his shot against them.

Desmond blinked and the scene shattered. A memory of Ezio’s. It wasn’t the block loosening, it was just a memory. Ezio and Altair’s memories were as much his as his own at this point.

He’d been distracted by the memory and didn’t realize it was his turn to do the take down. Desmond found himself standing at the front of the line awkwardly.

“Ah, Desmond, didn’t expect you here,” Lucy said cooly, her words with a razor edge.

“Uh— I’m full of surprises,” he said with as cheesy a grin as he could imagine. Jake found it amusing, Lucy did not.

“ _Stadalla_ ,” the Ilythian said in greeting. She was characteristically tall but Desmond could tell much about her since she was covered in body armor, including a helmet that covered much of her lower face, only really revealing her particularly dark golden eyes making her dark skin seem more silky.

“You going to do it?” Jake asked him.

“Sure, why not?” he stepped forward. The Ilythian became more nervous knowing it was Desmond. “ _It’ll be fine_ ,” he told them. That didn’t assure them at all.”

The Ilythian moved into the position to initiate the take down. Desmond stepped right into it, leading with his hips. One leg swept up and found itself around the proeathan’s knee, pulling them forward. As they lost their balance Desmond grabbed their arm and yanked forward dropping down into nearly a full crouch. Unlike the others in the lesson Desmond was taller. Not as tall as the proeathan, they still had about six inches on him at least. But his center of gravity was higher. He used the forward momentum of the Ilythian falling to give him an odd sort of boost where he pushed off the ground with his planted foot, twisting at the middle to get the proper torque. They ended up sort of doing a summersault, Desmond pulling the Ilythian down and pushing up on their legs. They ended up on their back and Desmond crouched by their feet. The Ilythian had genuine surprise on their face even as Desmond rose and twisted in one motion, turning and swung his arm down. His fingers formed a knife hand and he stopped the edge of his hand a hairsbreadth from their throat. The black bracelet around his wrist vibrated angrily.

The Ilythian’s shocked yellow eyes met Desmond’s, and he just grinned. “ _You took that fall better than Master Magni_ ,” Desmond said.

“ _What?_ ” they practically squeaked even as Desmond got to his feet and offered the proeathan a hand. They grabbed it and he hauled them to their feet.

“ _Magni, you know-_

_“I know who Magni is. You dropped him?”_

_“Well, yes.”_

The look in the Ilythian’s eyes went from fear and respect to outright awe. Magni was one of the most skilled Battle Masters in the Ilythian nation. He’d taught Desmond to fight like an Ilythian, and hated when he’d started mixing Ilythian _etji_ a _ð_ , the name of their martial arts, with his own. Apparently it was supposed to remain pure as one of the highest forms of fighting in the proeathan nations. Magni had been so mad when Desmond had mixed it with his already mixed martial arts. That move he’d just done wasn’t _etji_ a _ð_. Magni had been furious when Desmond had done it to him. Needless to say Magni hadn’t wanted to train him anymore and only done so because Od had ordered it.

“Show off,” Jake said. Desmond just looked at him, grinning.

“I’m too big for your take down,” he just said with a shrug.

“Yeah cause you got an extra gigantic noggin,” Jake teased. Desmond just shrugged. “And now you made us look bad,” he motioned to the rest of the soldiers who were all staring at him. These were the rank and file soldiers, not the best fighters or leaders. They were the faceless mass of an army. Desmond hadn't been paying attention if any of them had actually taken the proeathan down with any proficiency or not but he guessed not many from the way they were looking at him like he'd taken down a giant. It was like the first day of training with the Ilythians, the officers had been stunned and amazed to not only see someone fight a proeathan, but win.

"Oops, my bad," Desmond said, looking at the two of them a bit guiltily. The two of them just rolled their eyes. "I'll just hang back the rest of the class then," and he made a retreat.

He just watched until Lucy and Jake dismissed everyone and they left. The proeathan came up to him and sort of bowed. She wasn't wearing her helmet now and he could see her face. Like Zorya her face was angular and cat-like. Her silky black hair was worn in braids along her scalp to fit under her helmet and her lips and mouth were wide. Her nose appeared too small for her face and was turned up at the end a bit. _"I would be honored to match you whenever you want,_ " they said.

 _"Ah... Thanks_ ," Desmond said awkwardly, Ilythians were weird and since their social structure was about fighting so was their friendships. Being someone's regular sparring partner or offering to be one was akin to being their good friend. "What's your name?" He asked.

 _"Baldur,_ " she said. Well, Desmond sure wasn't expecting that. Wasn't Baldur a guy in mythos? Whatever he wasn't hung up on it.

 _"Nice to meet you. If I get a chance sure I'd be happy to kick your ass,_ " and she actually grinned a little. Then she left him and Desmond watched her go. Well, that had been unexpected.

"Making all sorts of weird friends aren't we?" Jake asked.

"Well I mean I'm friends with the both of you. Can't get much weirder than that right?"

"Haha so funny I forgot to laugh," Jake said dryly while grinning. "What are you doing here?"

"Demeter told me my clone is still being worked on and I had nothing better to do than bother you two, obviously," Desmond said.

"Pfft, fair enough," Jake laughed a little. "Though we're both kinda busy right now."

"Oh," Desmond kept the slight hurt out of his voice. He'd barely had time to really see either of them since he's come back from his trek across the globe. It made sense they'd be busy. They both were instructors for their little army. Desmond wondered if they knew their soldiers were probably all going to die, that Desmond would send them to be killed at the fight in Atlantis.

"Yeah. I got a thing. You seen Altair? We're supposed to do it together."

Desmond thought of Altair, alone in the tomato garden, grieving. "Yeah, he said he had something to do but would catch up when he was done," Desmond said.

"Really? He told me he was going to check up on you then we’d go do the thing,” Jake frowned.

“Plan changed I guess,” Desmond shrugged. “I’ll have Demeter tell you when he’s done. Right Demeter?” he called.

“Yes Desmond,” Demeter said.

“Great.”

“Well that’s annoying,” Jake made a face. “Guess I’ll go bother Shaun or something. He asks fun questions. Prick, but nice enough. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you where they’re at,” he said, eyes going to Lucy. She had her arms folded, watching them.

Jake looked between the both of them, “Right… well, I’ll see you there,” he said awkwardly and fled.

Desmond waited till they were alone. “Lucy-

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m sorry’ then save it,” she said, her voice tight, angry even.

“I am sorry,” Desmond said. “It wasn’t fair to you what I did before I left. I knew it then, I know it now.”

“Then why did you do it?” she demanded, every inch of her hurt.

“Because I’m an asshole.”

“No you’re not,” she said softly.

“Well I’m selfish at any rate. I was afraid I would die in Apollo. I could have if Cain hadn’t been there. You didn’t want me, so I just took what I could. For that, I’m sorry. That was cruel of me.”

She took a deep breath, “That all?” asked. “You going to do it again?”

“No,” Desmond said. “It’ll never happen again. Unless you want it to. I guess,” he shrugged.

“You guess?”

“I don’t-” he looked at her and there was no longing. There was no ache knowing she didn’t love him. “I don’t have a reason to really. I don’t love you.”

He watched her face change, dropping and she blinked several times, her arms loosening. She didn’t look sad though. Maybe for an instant. But then she just looked relived. “You don’t?”

“No,” Desmond said. “its weird. I left and I knew I loved you so much it hurt when we weren’t together. Now though,” he shrugged.

“Good,” she said.

“You think its good?”

She swallowed and then said, “I always knew, you didn’t love me,” she said and he was amazed her voice didn’t shake. “The proeathans made you, just like they made me.”

“Yeah but I liked you before. I mean, I liked the girl you’re based off.”

“But I’m not her,” she said softly. “You don’t remember, they took these memories from you so you wouldn’t remember their mistake. 

“They made me and woke you up, to see what would happen. You had no interest in me. I was so relieved. Then I didn’t know why. Now I do. I was relieved I wouldn’t have to hurt you. They were angry you didn’t like me, since they put a lot into making me, even when I thought I was just a clone I knew that. So they put you back into your pod and gave you new memories, new feelings.

“You had minor stockholm syndrome and projected onto Lucy, even when you were with your ancestors. And then the guilt of killing her made you mourn and projected it as love because that’s how you love Desmond. You mourn them, because they never stay. Your parents, your brother, all those girls and boys you loved and never stayed with. You never loved her. So they made you love her, and made you love me. The others took you away before they could wake you again.”

Desmond said nothing, “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

She took a deep breath, “Because I thought you were hurt enough. I thought even if I didn’t love you I could one day, maybe, for real.”

“Even though you _knew_ I didn’t love you.”

“Yes. But you thought you did. And there’s been so much unhappiness for you Desmond I just-

“You’re just as bad as me,” he cut her off. “Or worse, really,” and while he didn’t love her now he was heart broken. In a way he didn’t know his heart could break. He’d been broken a thousand times in a thousand ways, by a thousand people. But it still hurt. “And then you’re _mad_ at me for something I couldn’t control? That you _knew_ I couldn’t control.”

“I thought you could!” she cried. “I thought you’d be able to handle it or at least respect me enough to control yourself.”

“Like you controlled yourself?” he asked, head cocked. “Before I left and we both thought you loved me,” he saw his words crush her. “Even when you _knew_ that none of it was real. You just strung me along knowing none of it wasn’t real. For what? My feelings? Fuck you,” she swallowed. “If you’d wanted to do something good for me you should have told me. It could have been fixed and I wouldn’t have had to _suffer_ before we had sex in Cordoba and then when I came here and had to tell myself over and over again that I’d be able to get over you. You knew I wouldn’t and you let me do it anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” she practically whispered, her face twisted by emotion.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t love you, just like you wanted. I felt bad before, you know, for kissing you. I thought I’d done something awful and wrong for not respecting your boundaries. But you knew I literally couldn’t even help myself. Even if I’d wanted to. And you let me believe that lie the proeathans gave me.”

“I thought you’d be happy to have that.”

“I wasn’t happy,” he said. “I was miserable. Unless I was with you, unless I could see you, it was like I wanted to die. You got off easy. Hera took all those feelings and memories from you. You don’t have to live with remembering what it feels like. I just wanted to be with you, and when I wasn’t I was miserable.” He laughed mirthlessly, “You know this is exactly the shit I expect from my life at this point.” Then he said, and he knew he was mean when he said it, because she felt guilty, “I forgive you. You were scared and didn’t want to be alone. I was the only reason Altair didn’t just murder you. I was your shot to get away from those monsters that created you. So I forgive you your bullshit, because you’re just as fucked as me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed about it.”

“Fine,” she huffed, breathing in deeply through her nose. “Is that all?”

“Don’t come to me when you’re lonely. Cause I couldn’t come to you. I’ll see you around,” and he left to go find Jake and Shaun. As he left the lights flickered. He didn’t have it in him to control himself. He was angry and hurt. He’d gone there to apologize and tell Lucy the good news that she didn’t have to worry about him overstepping himself like before. He’d hoped to leave with Lucy and him on an even ground. Friends at least. Instead he’d left furious.

“Desmond,” Artemis said when he entered the lift, she sounded hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“You were petty mean in there.”

“I was,” he said passionlessly. “But then I’m not really a good guy am I?”

“You’re the _stadalla_ ,” she said.

“Which is a cleansing fire,” he said softly. His bracelet vibrated and he felt its cool, slick, black surface slide against his palm. “I really hope Atlantis just fucking kills me.”

“Why?” now it was Altair’s voice being used by Venus.

“Because my life sucks. I don’t love her anymore, and after what I did she’ll never love me. I have no more meaning than to just see this through.”

“You could find someone else,” Venus said.

He looked up at nothing, knowing his AI were watching. “Like you did you mean? So you just wear the faces of your masters’ loves instead?” Venus said nothing more. “Don’t think any of you can lecture me. Now take me to Jake and Shaun, at least they won’t make me hate myself more than I already do.”

“Yes, Desmond,” Demeter said, her voice whisper soft. As the lift started to move Desmond blinked rapidly to keep himself together. He couldn’t break now. Not now. Not until this was done. Not until Atlantis. Not until he’d saved the world.


	41. Duck, Duck

It took a day for Demeter to finish with his clone. She’d had to give him brain surgery, so it was understandable he’d need a recovery period. Desmond was there when they brought him into the human’s war room led by two Ilythians. D2 didn’t look happy to see him, or any of them. In fact he looked like he wanted to kill them all. Desmond doubted D2 was as good a fighter as he was, since Animus training only went so far before you had to actually get out there and practice, but he didn’t doubt D2 could take out most of the room.

The Animus was already waiting and Rebecca was sitting at her screens, running last diagnostics. They’d be sending D2 as far back as he could handle for the first cut, as deep as possible so the Bleeding could begin quickly. There were restraints added to the Animus that hadn’t been there when Desmond had used it. Unlike D2 Desmond had been willing. There had been no need for restraints, he’d let them put his brain under a laser scalpel of his own free will like an idiot. D2 didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t willing. Rebecca looked incredibly nervous about the entire thing since resistance of the Animus always made the process more difficult. They’d be giving D2 a mild sedative for his time in the Animus, so he didn’t struggle and hurt himself or the others. The point wasn’t to hurt D2 afterall, it was to get the knowledge trapped in Desmond’s head that Desmond refused to give.

The Ilythians put D2 in the Animus and strapped in his arms. He was looking right at Desmond while they did the entire thing. D2 was all rage. A little bundle of self righteous fury that Desmond had learned to quell and control long ago. He knew he had a problem with his temper if it got away from him. He exploded like a super nova when things made him so angry. As a teenager he’d been bad at controlling it and he’d been locked in the basement of his childhood home at night at least once a month. He hadn’t been able to control his mouth, his anger, his grief he was all expected to squash. When he’d run away he’d mellowed out some since the source of most of his rage now wasn’t in his life, but he could still go super nova. The morning after in Cordoba he’d gone super nova. Desmond was good at keeping that sort of hurtful anger in check though. 

D2 was not. He was young, even though he looked Desmond’s age. He had all of Desmond except his control. No amount of reliving his memories was enough to control the Miles temper. Say nothing for the fact that D2 knew what was going to happen to him and hated them all anyway for it. The only thing that could control that fire was time and learning to get over it. D2 was in the ‘the world owes me’ stage of Desmond’s life he’d grown out of a few years after he’d left the Farm. He was angry at everyone and thing and wanted the world to hurt and bleed like he’d been made to hurt and bleed. Desmond didn’t know what sort of treatment he’d gone through in Juno or Apollo but he couldn’t imagine it was nice. Desmond had just long ago accepted that the world sucked and there was no point in being angry at it, that the universe was vast and uncaring and his anger meant nothing, his hate meant nothing. It was better to be calm and go with the flow than resist.

Looking back at D2 Desmond felt bad for him. Not regret. Pity. D2 would never grow up. What they were going to do to him in the Animus would kill him. Desmond wondered what it’d look like to see his own dead body.

D2 flinched and hissed when one of the Ilythians stuck him with an injector gun. The gun gave a little pop and hiss pushing the sedative into him. The sedative worked quickly and in a few seconds D2 relaxed into the reclined chair, awake but no longer fully alert.

“It safe now?” Rebecca asked nervously.

“ _Net_ ,” one of the Ilythians said. Desmond told her it meant ‘yes’. 

She got up and went to the Animus carefully fitting D2 with the correct gear and positioning his head correctly. She gave a startled cry when D2 jerked his head towards her and stared her down. Shaun jumped up next to her to make sure she was alright. From there they got D2 properly together and D2 was too lethargic to go against them.

“He ready?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Rebecca nodded, sitting at her machines again. “I just need to start the program.” She fiddled with her keyboard and mouse for a few seconds before D2’s eyes closed, the lights in the headrest flaring up. “He’s in,” she said.

“Good,” he turned to the Ilythians, “ _We’ll take it from here. Thank you for bringing him_ ,” he said.

“ _Stadalla_ ,” they said, inclining their heads and left.

Desmond went around to behind Rebecca to see over her shoulder. He didn’t understand the code that was flying past on one screen nearly too fast to read. On a second screen there was a more standard looking master control program and on the third was a strange wire-frame looking image of black lines on a white background. It was a figure in an empty plain. “That’s what it looks like to you guys?” Desmond asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him a moment, “Yes,” she said. “Its much more detailed than it used to be. Used to be it was blobs and blocks and we’d have to hope things looked the way they were supposed to look.”

“It looks realistic on the inside,” Desmond said.

“That’s because its _your_ memory,” Shaun said. “The mind can perfectly recreate an image given it has enough time to memorize the image. Or even if it doesn’t it can fake it well enough to fool itself into thinking that it is correct. Its why you could run across places like Florence and Rome in less than ten minutes even though in real life such a thing would be impossible. The wire-frame is as close as we can get to you brain’s brainwaves.”

“So this you reading his mind?”

“In a way yes. In a controlled environment. We can’t just read your mind while you’re having a kip or something. It needs to be refined and the mind needs to be focused on what we want. The Animus makes the brain focus on what it needs to do, which is relive certain memories. Based on that focus we can create a sort of image from it,” Shaun motioned to the wire-frame.

“So you guys could never really see what I was doing,” Desmond said.

“Oh we had an idea. That blob there is a bad guy, that other one is a good guy, you just fell to your death for the twentieth time, stuff like that,” Shaun shrugged.

“This thing got sound?”

“Not a lick,” Shaun said.

“Damn.”

“Does have a replay feature though,” Rebecca said as the wire-frame began to shift, building the world Desmond’s ancestor inhabited around the figure of D2. “I invented it,” she said proudly. “Saves in-Animus sounds and speech as text over here,” she pointed to the streaming code monitor, “we can read it afterwards.”

“I thought the Animus was more advanced than that,” Desmond said. “I swear you guys could see what I saw.”

“Its weird. Some things come through _really_ well,” Rebecca said. “Things that have to do with Pieces of Eden or proeathans came through with a more robust clarity. On this thing they show up as actual colors. I had to code that in as it was overloading the previous system,” she made a slight face.

“Huh. Any guesses as to why?” Desmond asked them. They both shrugged. They had no idea. “Okay, so where is he?”

“Early mesoamerica,” Rebecca said, not looking at the wireframe, but rather the streaming code. “Looks like he’s part of a tribe, he’s out hunting,” her eyes darted across the screen as fast as the code flew down it. Desmond looked from the code monitor to the wire-frame and didn’t understand how she was seeing that since it just looked like a whole bunch of white lines.

“How long should this take?” Desmond asked.

“Not long… though he’s not moving,” she frowned.

“Not moving?”

“Yeah, he’s just standing there, though apparently he’s supposed to be out hunting.”

“What’s he doing?” Shaun asked, confused, and looked at the sedated clone in the chair.

“I don’t know. Everything’s running correctly,” Rebecca said, confused. “The program’s running at optimal levels, his brainwaves are fine, and he’s stable. There’s nothing wrong I have no idea why he’s not moving.”

Desmond knew. “He’s not moving because he doesn’t want to,” he said. “He knows we need him to participate to get what we need. So he’s just denying us that and the cut isn’t as deep if you aren’t going through the motions. He knows that, cause I found that out. I was less tired at the end of a session if I could keep Ezio in a limited location.”

“So then what do we do? There’s no real way to _make_ him run the simulation.”

“Can he hear us?” Desmond asked.

“Sort of. He can hear us if you’re closer but its less voice and more intent.”

“Good,” and Desmond went around the table and leaned down to D2 in the Animus so he was close to his ear. “They’re coming Desmond,” he whispered, his voice with the old paranoia he used to have when he was on the run. “They’re coming _for you_. You have to run. You have to run or they’ll catch you. You know what they’ll do when they catch you Desmond. They’ll take you home. They’ll take you back to the Farm. Can’t you see them? Just behind you? They’re coming. You need to run, get away. If you don’t they’ll catch you-

“He’s moving,” Rebecca said in surprise. “He’s moving _really_ fast too.”

“What’d you say to him?” Shaun asked as Desmond stood.

“Doesn’t matter,” Desmond said. “He’s going now. Hunting?”

“Right now just running,” Rebecca said, watching the code. Shaun and Desmond watched the wire frame and several minutes passed, “I think he’s synced, he’s hunting now,” she smiled and turned to Desmond. “Whatever you did, you got him to sync.”

“Yeah,” he gave her a little smile back, it didn’t reach his eyes. “He’ll be good now? I don’t need to stick around and watch myself sleep right?”

Rebecca laughed, “No. We will.”

“We have a lot of experience watching you lay around,” Shaun teased.

“Don’t have too much fun and if you need me come get me, I’ll be able to spur him on.”

“We will,” Rebecca promised. Desmond then bid his goodbyes and got out of there. As he left he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for what he’d just done to D2.


	42. Exousiai

Desmond didn’t like going into the Animus room. But he did because D2 was acting up. Desmond had scared him a bit at first and after his first ten hour session he’d complied a bit, the nagging voice of Desmond in the back of his mind, telling him to run, to move. Stillness was death, or worse; being taken home. They’d been stepping back in time the past few days and had finally reached Eve. The cut was deep and according to Shaun the Bleed was awful. D2 spoke English only half the time and he’d only been in the Animus a few times.

Altair had come in to put in the block. But like everything a block had to be given willingly. If you forced it it’d be brittle, it’d crack and eventually break, allowing the flood to run its course. D2 apparently refused to listen to Altair. The only person not surprised by the news was Desmond.

When he showed up at the Animus room Altair was there, with an Apple. Shaun and Rebecca were also there as well as the two Ilythian guards that escorted D2 from his quarters, it was too nice to be called a cell, to the Animus room and back every day. D2 was strapped to the chair, staring Altair down with all the hate he could muster. When Desmond came in his focus shifted to him instead.

“ _Eni-ka stadalla_ ,” D2 hissed at him from his chair.

“What’s that?” Desmond asked, his brows only going up a bit. He looked at the Ilythians for clarification once he was with them.

One of the Ilythians said, “ _He isn’t speaking_ English, _he’s speaking the language of the Adjatevs.”_

_“What’d he say?”_

_“Hello.”_

_“_ Well he’s pleasant at least,” Desmond said. “So he’s acting up again?”

“Yes,” Altair grumbled. “He’s even more disobedient than you.”

“Yeah, sounds like me,” Desmond said, hands in the pockets of his jacket in a blasé manner. “He’s at Eve?”

“He was. Then we pulled him out and called Altair to apply the block,” Rebecca said. “He keeps resisting.”

Desmond went to the Animus where D2 was strapped and squatted down next to him, looking at him with slightly pursed lips. D2 glared at him defiantly. “If you speak English like a good boy so we can talk I won’t humiliate you in front of them,” he said.

D2 hesitated, weighing his options. “Fuck you,” he seethed.

Desmond just grinned, and stood up, “You all can leave,” he said.

“What? Why?” Shaun asked.

“Me, myself, and I need to have a little chat,” Desmond said. “Now leave, please. I’ll have Demeter call you back in when he’s cooperative again.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said slowly, not liking it. But she and Shaun did leave.

“You too,” Desmond told Altair.

“I think it’d be best-

“Altair,” Desmond said. “Please. At least let me have this.”

Altair frowned, “You’re going places I don’t like.”

“I know.”

“Don’t hurt him, that’s not the point.”

“I know,” and Desmond looked back down at his clone. Altair left as well. That left Desmond with the Ilythians and his clone. “ _Give me the key to his restraints and leave,”_ he said.

_“Stadalla, Ando gave us strict instructions to-_

_“I know what your Ando ordered you to do,”_ he looked at them both. _“But I outrank him. Ando Od takes his orders from me. Now do as I say.”_

 _“Yes, stadalla_ ,” and they handed him a ring with what looked like a USB on it, only it was made of black crystal with gold chips in it. The Ilythians left.

Desmond was alone with his clone.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Desmond asked him.

“You know why,” D2 said.

“Right,” Desmond grimaced. “But even I submitted to the Animus when I thought my life was in danger.”

“I _lived_ in your memories,” D2 hissed, “In a device like this. Only better, more advanced. This toy is nothing to what I spent day and night in.”

Desmond looked down at his clone, “And yet you’re already falling apart. Spent what? Four years in an Adjatev Animus without fail, but spend less than a week in Rebecca’s and you’re losing yourself already.”

“I’m not,” D2 said. “I still know who I am.”

“But you’re no one,” Desmond said. “You’re a copy. You have no memories of your own. You have just mine. You know who I am, but who you are? You have no idea. You’re no one Desmond.”

“I am someone,” D2 insisted.

“You’re. No. One. A shadow at best. Of me. I bet you still love her,” D2 froze. “She doesn’t love you, she never will. She doesn’t even love me you know. And I don’t love her. Neither do you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said shakily.

“Yes you do. Odd, that they’d give you my tampered memories and not before they tampered with them. They made you love her, and then probably told you if you ever got close to her they’d kill you. She wasn’t for you. She was for me. Cause the hero always gets the girl right?” D2 was trembling. “They couldn’t risk you _contaminating_ her. Still. Why give you tampered memories?

“So you’d never hurt her? No matter how angry you got? No matter if you wanted to. I could never hurt her, not even accidentally. Fail safe in case we met in Apollo or Nike or wherever and fought over her. They didn’t want their precious synth hurt-

“Don’t call her that!” D2 snapped.

“What? A synth? That’s what she is. A fake girl, just like you’re a fake boy.”

“She isn’t fake! She’s real! I’m real!”

“Or maybe they gave you my tampered memories because you were a rush job?” Desmond ignored his outburst. D2 said nothing, but was hanging on every word. “I know you. You’re smart enough to know you weren’t the first clone of me. Lucy said you’re four years old, same as her. But I wonder if that’s true? What if she met my other clones? However briefly they were alive before reliving my memories killed them. Then the last one died and my ancestors were drawing near. 

“You seem like a rush job. You’re me at sixteen, angry, bitter, hateful. You’re still mad at mom for never loving you. Still grieving your brother who abandoned you. Angry at dad for never being there for you. They wanted you to be me. They made a child and put it in a man’s body. You might have lived my life, but you’re just a bratty teenager. Pissed at the world, thinking it _owes_ you something.

“It doesn’t. This is the reality Desmond. You’re locked to an Animus, I’m not. You were always going to die young, we both were.

“Its time to grow up and accept your fate. We need you to live as Eve.”

“No,” D2 said softly. “I refuse. I am sick of being a god damn pawn! You’re me. I’m you. How don’t you understand?”

“Because I made it across the chess board,” Desmond said. “I grew up. I’m not the pawn anymore, I’m the queen. But you’re still that pawn. You need to cooperate.”

“If I don’t?”

“I’ll make you,” Desmond said simply. “Demeter,” he called lightly.

“Yes, Desmond?” she asked.

“You can control this room’s appearance yes?”

“Yes, Desmond.”

“Alright,” Desmond reached down and insert the USB looking key into the restraints. They snapped open and before D2 could lunge at him Desmond grabbed both his wrists and yanked him out of the Animus chair. He then shoved D2 to the floor, away from the machinery. “Do what we talked about,” Desmond said darkly, standing above D2 who was a bit stunned from being yanked around. Desmond knew rapid movement while Bleeding as heavily as D2 was left you disorientated easily.

“Yes, Desmond,” she said and the room changed. Or rather, a projection was laid across the room. It looked like a basement. Partially finished with a finished floor and ceiling but rough walls. There were no windows. In the corner were some punching dummies. Three were broken, the ‘arms’ snapped off or the soft bodies ripped open, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The basement was lit by a light at the top of the stairs and a single light fixture in the middle of the ceiling.

D2 looked up at Desmond with wide eyes, his breathing deep and nearly labored, his pupils tiny pricks despite the fact that it was low light.

“You know where we are,” Desmond said.

“Please don’t,” D2 said softly.

“You’re going to stay here till you’re ready to behave,” Desmond said and he wondered if D2 was even seeing him or if the stimuli was overwhelming him and he was instead seeing Andrew. He’d used the same words Andrew always used whenever he made Desmond stay in the basement for bad behavior. He’d spent many nights in the basement of their home on the Farm. He used to hear rats down there, and bugs. Once he’d woken up with a spider on his face. Desmond was _petrified_ of basements because of what Andrew had subjected him to as a boy. Andrew said he’d never hurt Desmond as a child. And he was right, he’d never hit Desmond, or his brother. But trauma wasn’t always physical. Being in this space made Desmond feel ill as it was.

“I’m sorry,” D2 whispered.

“Will you submit to Altair?”

“No,” his voice was a bit stronger now, but still rather weak.

“We’ll talk again when you’re ready to be a part of this,” he again used the same words Andrew had once used on him. He knew he didn’t have to restrain D2. The projection would keep him on the floor, trying not to have a panic attack for a while.

He left the room and sighed in relief of being out of there. He’d been trying to show he was unaffected but his heart was racing and his palms were sweating in his gloves. He’d been as terrified as D2. Unlike D2 he had the experience to handle and deal with his fear. He was sure the rational part of D2 knew that the basement wasn’t real but in the moment it seemed real and terrible.

“He ready to cooperate?” Altair asked, standing just off to the side.

“No,” Desmond said. “Give him some time to think about it. I’ll talk to him in a little while,” he told Shaun and Rebecca.

“Its safe to leave him in there with the Animus?” Rebecca asked.

“Your Animus is fine,” he promised her even as he handed the Ilythian his key back. He looked confused, but knew better than to ask.

“If you say so,” she said. Desmond just nodded. “Well, break time I guess,” she looked at Shaun who nodded and the two of them left. Desmond motioned to the Ilythians that they were free to leave and they left in the other direction though he sensed them stop around the corner, just out of sight. They took their duty as D2’s guard seriously.

“Everything all right?” Altair asked.

Desmond gave a strained smile and a cough of a laugh that was mirthless, “I _really_ hate when you ask me that.”

Altair frowned, “I’m just concerned. You’re important to me, kid. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m fine,” Desmond said. It didn’t feel like too much of a lie.

“Be honest with me, what’d you do to him in there?”

“Nothing. I just took him back to a time and place that’ll make him… agreeable.”

“Careful. You’ll start to sound like Andy.”

“I’m not like him,” Desmond snapped.

“Promise me you won’t lose yourself for whatever you think Eve can show us,” Altair said. He reached out and Desmond let Altair grab his arm. “I don’t want to lose you too,” and it was a shot to the heart. “Bad enough you’d rather talk to Cain than your own family. Don’t make me watch you become something you’re not.”

Desmond swallowed thickly. “I am what I need to be,” he said.

“That sounds like Cain. And we both know you’re never anything but yourself. You don’t have to be what you need to be. The world will get along with you being you.”

Desmond let a few of the barriers he’d built up the past few months drop away some. “Don’t take this the wrong way; but I’m really glad Cain screamed at you.”

“It put things in perspective for sure,” Altair said, his voice tight and short. “Like that the future I saw will never happen, so now I just need to focus on keeping you in one piece till you figure out what to do next.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said.

“Just do you,” Altair said. “Cain’s gotten into your head that you have to be this savior of the world. That you have to adapt to the world. You don’t. If what I understand about the _stadalla_ is true then you don’t adapt to the world, the world adapts to _you_.” Desmond had never thought of it like that.

“Yeah,” Desmond said, that made a lot of sense to him. Cain said he balanced the world and acted like Desmond had to do the same. But he didn’t. Not really. If Cain was the great balancer, than Desmond was the unbalancer. Or something. All he knew was that when Altair said it like that the weight felt a lot less heavy than it had been. “Thanks,” he said, meaning it.

Altair smiled a little at him and pulled him close to give him a one armed hug and to press his lips to Desmond’s temple so briefly Desmond was sure he’d imagined it. At the very least it made him feel a bit better. Altair had let go of a lot of things the past few days. The truth about his ill fated future, that Cain had always loved him and how he’d ruined all his own relationships with everyone. A lot of weight had slid off Altair too and he looked more like the young man Desmond had seen in the Animus. Burdened with purpose but not so much that it controlled him. Altair seemed to be back in control of his own fate, and not allowing it to be dictated by a lying angel vessel.

“So he’s going to sit and stew for a while?” Desmond nodded. “What if he doesn’t agree?”

“I have other ideas,” Desmond said. “Hopefully I won’t have to use them all. Some of them are horrible and mean. I want to twist his arm a little, I don’t want to snap it off.”

Altair’s mouth twitched in a frown. “Just stay Desmond. Promise?”

“Yeah,” Desmond smiled at him a little.

“Alright. While we have time fancy a spar? We haven’t had a chance really.”

“Sure,” Desmond’s smile widened. “I won’t even use my future sight on you.”

“Pft! Like that’d matter. I’ll still trounce you kid. Some fancy future sight doesn’t mean you can beat me,” Altair scoffed.

“We’ll see,” Desmond grinned as they got into the lift and he punched the code in for the lift to take them to the training yard.


	43. Wings of Memory

When Desmond came back into the Animus room D2 was still there. His chest tightened a bit seeing himself curled up in a ball on the floor, eyes closed. He wasn't dead, Demeter would have told him if D2 had died. Rather he was asleep. Stressed himself out so much he's just fallen asleep. Sounded like something Desmond would do.

He went over to D2 and nudged him with his foot. "Get up Desmond," he said.

D2 jerked awake and then scrambled away looking up at Desmond in slight fear. The room was the Animus room now. No more basement. Desmond felt sad looking at D2. "Get away from me," he said.

"You know I can't. I need you. Will you submit? Or do you want to go crazy like Clay and kill yourself?"

"Clay's alive," D2 said.

"Yes, but no one will bring you back if you die. Now will you submit to the block or not?"

D2 looked up at him, away, then back at him, fearfully. "Yes. Just... Not Altair. I don't want him in my head."

"It's Altair-

"He was the one who did this to me," D2 angrily pointed to his face where their scar was. D2 had two scars on his mouth, the second out there by Altair so they'd never not know who was who. "And threatened to kill me last time we met. I don't want him in my head or anywhere near me."

Desmond cocked his head at D2. He'd changed since the last time Desmond had seen him. It'd only been a few hours but D2 seemed older. Or at least more mature. "I won't be mad, just tell me the truth. Were you talking with Tiamat while you were sleeping?"

Desmond had always hated the fact that he had a very honest face. He'd learned to lie, but his face would sometimes betray him. That or there would be a tell and people would know. D2 didn't know how to really lie with Desmond's face. If he believed a truth he could lie, like at Alexandria. But a straight lie? Desmond could see it all over his face when he said, "No. How could I?"

"You can't lie to me Desmond. I know you too well. Now tell me the truth."

"Or what?"

"Don't try me. We both know you're scared. Now tell me."

D2 still hesitated. "She projected," he admitted.

"At this distance?"

"She has a global range for those she chooses."

"And she chose you?"

"You too," he said and a chill slithered down Desmond's spine. "But only when we sleep."

"What'd she say?"

"To remind you what you promised her. She said you wouldn't hurt me."

Desmond stepped closer to him and this time D2 didn't try to get away. Desmond squatted in front of him. "I don't want to," he said. "But I know myself. I don't do something I don't want to do unless forced to. You're making me do this because you won't make this easy."

"I don't want to die."

"We all die. Everyone. Neither of us want to die, but in the grand scheme of things you shouldn't even exist in the first place. You're a copy, bud."

"I'm still a person," D2 snapped.

"Are you? Really? Then who are you?"

"I'm... Desmond Miles," he said weakly.

"You're not. I am. You're no one. Ultimately you're expendable. Tiamat knew if I took you you'd die. She was okay with that. What she didn't want was me to torment you. So don't make me need to torment you. Just let Altair put in the block."

"No," he shook his head. Desmond felt his temper rise, irritation flaring. "Not Altair, someone else."

"Why?"

"We were just over this! He did this to me!" D2 growled and motioned to his face with the two scars. "And he threatened to kill me. Not to mention he’s a fucking sociopath without an ounce of remorse and you’re way too close to see it. Don’t you remember all those times he _hurt you_? And then just shrugged it off like it was nothing.” He grabbed Desmond’s left hand, his fighting hand, and pushed it open. There was the scar on it in the flesh between the thumb and index finger. A training injury in Michigan. Hawk had sewn it shut. It was healed now, didn’t bother him or impact his grip at all, but the scar was there. “He did this to you. He wasn’t even sorry. He told you it was _your_ fault.”

“It was my fault. I made an error,” Desmond said.

“He’s nine hundred years old, waited for _you_ the entire time. He’s a monster and just used to hurt you all the time. And he lied to you, let you think he was dead-

“I let myself think he was dead,” Desmond said firmly and took his hand out of D2’s grip. “Altair’s old, cracked, and as scared as any of us. He’s a sociopath, but so are _we_ ,” he gave D2 a hard stare. “Don’t act like we’re saints. I know you know about what happened in Atlanta.” D2 had no come back for that. “And what happened in St. Louis. Remember that? Or maybe you remember Brandon?”

“We’re not like him,” D2 said softly, but with conviction.

“Then tell me, do you feel guilty?” Again no reply. “Don’t throw stones in your own damn house moron,” and he flicked D2 in the forehead. As soon as he did it he realized that was a Cain-ism he’d picked up for some reason. “We’re not like him,” Desmond agreed, “but we’re similar. He, at the very least, with the rest of them, gets us. He’s going to put in the block.”

“I refuse. If you force him on me, then it’ll be weak and then I’l be dead or crazy or crazy dead and then you’ll be shit out of luck getting to Eve!” D2 said defiantly.

"He's the only one," Desmond said.

"No he isn't. Tiamat told me someone else could do it."

"Yeah? Who's that smart guy?"

"You."

"We both know that isn't going to happen," Desmond said humorlessly.

"She also said Cain could."

"Not Ezio or Hawk?"

"Hawk is broken, and Ezio has no delicate tendencies. Also you saw what Hawk did to Jacob. You think I want that to happen to me? Fuck no. I want him in my head less than I do Altair.."

"Fair enough. Fine, I'll ask Cain," Desmond said.

"And then I'll die."

"I'm sorry," Desmond said. "It's me, or you. The world needs me."

"Not me," D2 said softly.

"Unfortunately. Whatever it is that makes me Stadalla you don't have."

"What if I don't do it? Don’t show you Eve?" D2 asked.

"I'll think of something."

"You promised Tiamat," he said.

"Tiamat let you go for the price of her freedom. She didn't want me to make you miserable, she still traded your life for her freedom. In the end her life was more important to her than yours. That’s just the breaks. We're made to be used by the higher powers Desmond."

D2 said exactly what Desmond was thinking, "And I guess you're the higher power now?"

Desmond was taken by that statement and took a second to reply. “Looks like I am. I'll go get Cain," and Desmond finally stood, unable to do anything but loom over D2. "If I leave you here without restraints will you run?"

"You know the answer to that."

"So the Ilythians need to come in here and babysit you?"

D2 scowled at him. "I'll stay."

"If you don't and I have to go looking for you neither of us will like what I'll have to do," and D2 blanched. "Stay here." D2 nodded and Desmond left.

"Demeter, where's Cain?"

"With the children. Shall I take you to him?"

"No. Bring him here. He can jump when I say for once."

"Shall I tell him that?" she asked and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes, do," Desmond said. He had planned to find Cain, but what D2 had said was true. He was a higher power now. It was time he started acting like it. People could come to him for once instead of him always running to them. He brushed off the other stuff he’d said. About Altair, the others, himself. Desmond would have said anything he could have in that situation to avoid what Desmond was doing to D2. 

“He said to tell me that you don’t get to order him around,” Demeter said.

“Patch me through to the nursery, I’ll talk to him myself.”

“Very well. Mind your tongue though, I don’t want those children to pick up those disgusting words you humans say to one another.”

“Yes Demeter,” he said with a slight grin.

“You’re connected,” she said.

“Cain,” Desmond said. On the other end he heard little voices. “I know you can hear me.”

“Did Demeter not deliver my message?” Cain asked.

“She did.”

“Then why are we having this conversation.”

“I need you. Its important.”

“About?”

“Myself.”

Cain said nothing for a moment, “I don’t want to be involved.”

“You’re already involved. Come here. Now.” More silence. “Demeter?” Desmond prompted.

“He’s leaving the nursery-

“You do not get to order me around, kid.”

“I do,” Desmond said.

“And how do you figure that?”

“Because I’m _stadalla_ and you’re not,” Desmond said.

Cain scoffed, “That excuse will work on the proeathans and cow your human friends; but not me. I’m ancient. You don’t get to boss an ancient like me around, _stadalla_ or not.”

“Just get your ass here,” Desmond snapped, temper rising. “I can just make Demeter bring you here, right Demeter?”

“In theory I could, yes,” she said.

“Whatever you were doing, this is more important. Its about Eve, my clone, and the Toba event.”

“All things I find boring and useless. Eve’s dead, she has been for millennia, whatever wisdom she had is useless now. The enemy is different than in her time.”

“You don’t know that. Now get over here, I need you to put the block on my clone.”

“I thought Altair was doing that.”

“My clone likes you more.”

Cain said nothing for a second. “I bet that’d chaff that brat to know the original _and_ the copy prefer me over him,” he said smugly.

Desmond just rolled his eyes. “Yes you’re very smart and wonderful. Now come do it so we can move forward.”

Cain sighed like he was doing Desmond a great favor. “Fine. I’ll be there shortly. I need to stop at Venus to get an Apple. Tell her I’m coming.”

“I’m sure she’s listening,” Desmond said. “Venus, don’t let him _leave_ with anything but that.”

“Of course, Desmond,” Altair’s voice said.

“She really needs to stop that,” Cain growled.

“Its him, or Lucy. I’d rather hear him,” Desmond said cheerfully. He just heard Cain grumbling under his breath and then the audio cut out. “So?”

“He’s heading for Venus. He should arrive in a few minutes,” Demeter said.

Desmond didn’t know if he wanted to go back into the Animus room or not. How much did he want to face his clone? The answer was; not a lot. So he ended up waiting outside until Demeter told him Cain was nearly there. When the ancient finally showed up Desmond felt a bit relieved. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting _stadalla_ ,” but he said it a bit scornfully.

“No, you didn’t. And you can afford to do things for people on their time and not your own,” Desmond said. “You’re old, you’ve had plenty of people do what you want on your time. You can do things on my time for a bit.”

Cain frowned then sighed, “I suppose that’s true if nothing else. Now shall we?” he motioned to the door.

Desmond opened the door and Cain followed him in. D2 was sitting at Shaun’s desk, eyes closed. They opened when they entered. “Sleeping?” Desmond asked. D2 replied in a language he didn’t know. To Desmond’s surprise Cain talked back. They had a brief back and forth. “What was that?”

“An ancient form of an extinct Indian language. Haven’t heard that in a while. My accent must be awful,” he grimaced. “She’s much more agreeable than your clone, is a bit confused, but not afraid. I told her it’d be explained,” he shrugged.

“My clone is Bleeding a woman?”

“Yes? That so shocking? Your ancestors were female as well.”

“I just never have… it seems weird that’s all.”

Cain spoke to his clone again and D2 got up. Desmond nearly laughed. He walked like a man trying to walk like a girl. He came up to Cain and in Cain’s hand the Apple started screaming. Desmond blinked several times in surprise. He’d always heard singing. Always. This was the first time he heard the furious shrieking rage of the angel locked within the Apple. Cain put his palm on D2’s forehead and closed his eyes, D2 also closed his eyes. This Desmond was at least familiar with, Altair had done the same thing to him, years ago. 

The Apple glowed so bright it was nearly blinding, sending a light show all across the room. For a moment Cain looked like a being made of pure light. An angel like in the stories. A figure of retribution and rage for God. Accompanied with the furious screaming the images went well together.

Then the Apple dimmed, the scream cut off mid stream, the echo hanging in the air like the last note of a melody. D2 opened his eyes after Cain took his hand away. “Well that was weird,” he said. “Second time that’s ever happened.”

“First,” Desmond said.

“No, second,” D2 said.

“He already had a block, a small one,” Cain said. “Made by proeathan hands. Its much cleaner than your old one,” he said looking at Desmond.

“Old one?” Desmond asked. “I only have one. From Altair.”

“Incorrect,” Cain said. “When Tiamat gave you back to me she told me she fixed it. Altair isn’t good with subtle mending. His is from Tiamat at as. Probably to prevent him from Bleeding through your own Bleed, which would be… interesting,” he looked D2 up and down.

“Don’t even think about it,” D2 growled.

“Regardless, he’s got another now. Shouldn’t Bleed anymore, just like you. Memories maybe, but no Bleeding. There, are we done now?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Good, I was busy.”

“Yes of course, playing with children,” Desmond said sarcastically.

Cain gave him a look, “I am surrounded by children. Some of them are just taller and insignificantly older than the small ones.”

“Ouch,” D2 said.

“Shut up Desmond, you’re one of them,” Desmond snapped.

“If you need me, come get me, you got a free one this time.” He tossed Desmond the Apple and walked out.

“He’s a jerk,” D2 said.

“You have _no_ idea,” Desmond said.

“Do I still have to get into the Animus?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad. I’m going to tell Shaun and Rebecca you can fit into Eve. The Ilythians will take you back to your room-

“Cell,” D2 said.

Desmond looked at him. “Yes, your cell. Because you’re a prisoner, and so far have been treated very well. Better than I ever was when I was forced into the Animus. Relived Ezio’s life to his thirties in two days. Eighteen hour days, so exhausted I could barely eat before wanting to just pass out. Not to mention the weeks I scoured his time in Rome. Or better yet locked in a bedroom covered in cameras at Abstergo. I couldn’t even shit in peace.” D2 wasn’t meeting his eyes. “The Ilythians will take you back to your room without restraints. In the morning you’re going to Eve.”

“I don’t-

“I don’t care,” Desmond said. “Do something important with your short life. I wasted mine being scared as shit all the time till about a year ago. Eighteen years, scared nearly every day of them. Wasted all that time. You have my memories, don’t be an idiot like me. This is important. _You_ could be important.”

“And die.”

“I’m going to die too,” Desmond said. “Don’t think I’m some noble guy who doesn’t think at the end of this I’m going to live to see the end. Atlantis is the end. Win or lose, Desmond Miles probably won’t be walking away from it.” D2 looked down, nodded. “Demeter, bring the Ilythians keeping him.”

“Yes, Desmond.” The Ilythians showed up quickly. Desmond told them to not restrain D2 any longer. They nodded, but were confused. Then they took D2 away. “Shall I tell Shaun and Rebecca that their work room is available again?” Demeter asked as Desmond stared at the Animus.

“No, I will myself,” he said. “Demeter, turn off cameras and monitoring systems for this room.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“Take a nap. I haven’t been sleeping well still.” Since he got back. The nightmares and terrors still came. He couldn’t sleep in Lucy’s room either. He’d been holding it together but he was so tired all the time. No one really noticed, not even Cain. Sleep deprived had just become Desmond’s natural state, not even he noticed. He wondered if this was what Altair felt like.

“Very well. Monitoring has been disengaged, the door locked,” she said.

“If I’m not awake in two hours wake me up,” he said.

“Yes, Desmond,” she said and then was quiet.

After standing there several more minutes Desmond went over to the Animus. He put his hands on the head wings. The plastic was cool to the touch. He checked Rebecca’s station. Everything was off. Then he slowly sat into the Animus. His body went limp and he relaxed. Once upon a time this had been the only way he could sleep, when he was plagued by nightmares and screamed in his sleep and thrashed in his sleeping bag. He’d found that if he waited for everyone to go to sleep he could sit back in the Animus and his body would relax, the nightmares would cease, and he stopped screaming and thrashing.

He closed his eyes and was asleep instantly.


	44. Telephone Wire

The Animus room was quiet except for the humming of machines. Shaun and Rebecca were hunched over their computers while D2 laid of in the Animus. Desmond’s clone looked relaxed for the most part but now and then his muscles would tense, his brow crease, and face grimace. Desmond was watching, waiting.

Then Rebecca looked up, eyes tired, when a little alarm starting twinkling. “That’s the end of the session,” she said. She got up with a groan and went over to the Animus to disengage D2 from it. She moved away from him when he woke up. D2 opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes far away, unfocused. Someone knocked on the door lightly before opening. Desmond didn’t look to see who it was.

“Where is he?” Desmond asked Rebecca. D2 had been living as Eve for a few days now and they were trying to find the important part, the part about Toba.

“I think we jumped too far forward this time, but we’re getting closer,” Rebecca said and ruffled her short hair. “Post Event, but there’s still a war. We didn’t notice since Eve didn’t stop even after that.”

“I feel so bad for pregnant women,” D2 suddenly said.

“Hmm?” Desmond looked at him.

“That was my last memory with her. Pregnant. What an awful experience,” D2 said it like he was commenting on the weather. “Your body isn’t your own, you’re fat, you can’t move quickly, everything sucks.”

“We’re getting closer,” Rebecca said again. “We know Eve had her children shortly after Toba, meaning this is only a few months in the future. Tomorrow we’ll try top pinpoint the exact time.”

“Why do women subject themselves to that?” D2 asked and turned his head and looked at Rebecca. She said nothing and looked very uncomfortable by the question. “Rebecca?”

“Shut up,” Shaun said. “Why would you even ask a stupid question like that? You have no sense in your head in the slightest just like the original,” he scowled darkly at D2. “But yes, you should feel so lucky women put up with pregnancy. Without it you wouldn’t be here.”

“Huh, probably better,” D2 was still unaffected and turned back around. “Right?” he asked Desmond.

“Demeter, call the Ilythians to come retrieve my clone,” Desmond said without feeling. D2 sort of smiled at him. It wasn’t a mean smile. Dick.

“They’re on their way,” Demeter said.

“Thank you.”

“Did you need something Andrew?” Rebecca asked, standing at her station, hand on her stomach. Desmond’s head turned sharply. Andrew had been the one who’d come in.

“I just came to check on your progress,” Andrew said in his grave and serious way. “Hopefully tomorrow you’ll have good news for us.”

“That’s the hope,” Rebecca said as the Ilythians came into the room. D2 sat up in the Animus and waited. The Ilythians collected Desmond’s clone in quiet efficiency and took him away. 

Once he was gone Desmond went over to her station and looked at her computers. He still barely understood what he seeing but he knew it was all important. “If he’s seen the aftermath of Toba, what happened?”

“Global EMP,” she said. “But from what I can tell from the transcript,” she motioned to one of the screens, “that wasn’t supposed to happen. Or at least it isn’t _right_. Or something. I’m not quite sure honestly. But it seems like what happened at Toba wasn’t what everyone expected to happen.”

“Hmm,” Desmond said.

“Once the Animus has had time to render out all the dialogue properly and not just half clauses on the fly we’ll know more,” she assured him.

“How long will that take?”

“After that session? The rest of the day at least.”

“In the mean time we should take a break,” Shaun piped in. As he did he looked at Desmond and Desmond had a sudden feeling that Shaun knew he’d slept in the Animus a few times the past few days. This was Shaun telling Desmond he looked like shit from not enough sleep. How Shaun knew Desmond had been sleeping in the Animus he had no idea, but he did somehow. He was giving Desmond the chance to take a nap in peace without people freaking out or stressing him out or asking him six thousand times if he was okay. Desmond appreciated that. “I’m starving and could use a cuppa.”

“I guess,” Rebecca said and rubbed her eyes. “Though not too long. I want to get back and find out what we missed.”

“Yes yes, of course dear, now c’mon lets go. That girl at the mess knows exactly how you like your coffee,” and he shepherded Rebecca out of the room.

That suddenly left Desmond alone with Andrew. “Uh… you need something?” Desmond asked, wondering why Andrew was still there. He wanted Andrew to leave so he could take that rest Shaun had given him by dragging Rebecca away.

Andrew said nothing a moment and just looked at Desmond. “Sometimes I look at you and see myself,” Andrew said with all the grave implications it bore which stunned Desmond. “But only for a moment. Then I see your mother,” Desmond stopped breathing. “She was like you, you know.”

Desmond had expected his father to say a lot of things. None of them were what he’d said. Now he scrambled to come up with a decent reply. “I don’t,” Desmond said. He’d never known her. She’d locked herself in her room his entire life. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like, the sound of her voice. The most vibrant memory he had of her was of when he was eight and she picked him up and he was screaming, covered in his brother’s blood begging him to wake up. There’d been no gentleness to her hands holding him, no motherly tenderness. She’d just taken him away, given him to someone else, to make him stop screaming. She’d acted to give herself the peace of silence again.

Andrew frowned, “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he said at length, sad and beaten. “I wish you’d known her. She would have loved you. You’re so like her,” Desmond knew honest grief when he saw it. Andrew wasn’t saying this to manipulate him. At least, he didn’t think so. “She hated the Farm too, and wanted to leave, wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, else.”

“Why didn’t she?”

“Your brother,” Desmond swallowed. “I know it means nothing to you, but you’re from a long line of Assassins, Desmond. That lineage isn’t from me,” Desmond knew that. He knew his father had been an outsider. “Your grandfather basically disowned your mother when… when she got with me. He wasn’t happy about Duncan, but also wouldn’t have tolerated his blood from just leaving. She could have left, but she’d have to leave our son. If she took him with her he would have hunted them down, just like he did you.” Desmond didn’t have to fake his surprise. 

“I didn’t send our people after you,” Andrew said. “I wanted— hoped you would become my successor. Instead you ran away, just like your mother wanted to do and she and your brother were too afraid to do. I doubt you care, but I missed you-

“Should have thought of that before driving me away-

“I was acting with your best interests,” Andrew snapped and advanced on the desks. “You were rebellious, head strong, talented and _good_. The Order would have ripped you apart, chewed you up and spit you out like it does all rebels. You think I was cruel, maybe I was, but you’re my son-

“If you say you loved me I will choke you,” Desmond growled, hands balling into fists. Andrew didn’t say it, but Desmond could see it in his grey-blue eyes. Eyes Duncan had had. But there was nothing in them that Desmond found familiar, no loving memory there. He didn’t care what misguided love Andrew had for him. He didn’t want to hear those words from the mouth of a serpent. He’d worked so hard to make Andrew a tiny part of his life, to tell himself over and over again he didn’t _care_ about Andrew. But the truth was he was afraid of the power Andrew had over him to this day. Sixteen years was half his life. You couldn’t just shake off sixteen years of wanting to impress your father, wanting to hear encouragement and love so desperately you acted out sometimes just so he’d talk to you. Just so he’d _acknowledge_ you. Just so he’d even go ‘just because you’re the best in Forms doesn’t mean you get to act out like this’. Desmond hated that about Andrew and himself. He wouldn’t let Andrew destroy him like that again. He couldn’t.

“I did what I thought was best. Just like you’re doing now, with your clone,” Desmond said nothing. “I’m starting to see myself more in you now. I’ll be honest it frightens me,” he seemed lost for words a moment. “I know I’m not the easiest man to get along with, and when I was younger I foolishly wanted you and Duncan to walk in my footsteps. Now, seeing you here. I’m concerned, Desmond, that you’re becoming something you don’t want to be.”

“And what’s that? You?” Desmond asked.

“Your worse nightmare; being just like your old man ey?”

“I need him to do this. Without it we lose. We die. There are no other options.”

“I said the same thing to myself when Lucy sent me emails about your condition in Monteriggioni,” Andrew said. “That it was necessary. That if I didn’t push this agenda, push _you_ , we’d lose, and the Order would be wiped out within the next generation because after the Purge we were holding on by our fingertips. I see now that any second option is better than what that machine does to people.”

“There is no second option,” Desmond said.

“There’s always a second option,” Andrew said. “I don’t know what it is in this case, but there is one. Just like it was my option to not find you and bring you home as soon as we realized you were gone. It was my option to let you go, until your grandfather heard and had me send men. Until he sent his own men when I failed to bring you home.”

Desmond digested that and neither of them said nothing, they just looked at each other. He'd never heard any of this. But then he and Andrew rarely talked. When they did it was cagey and quiet and Desmond was usually angry. Or Andrew would say something that would send Desmond into a rage and they’d end up yelling at one another. This wasn’t a moment like that though. Andrew wasn’t here to hurt Desmond, wasn’t here to push his buttons or make him angry.

Desmond remembered what Clay had told him about Andrew, to give him a chance. He didn’t know _how_ to be a good person, or father. Clay wanted Desmond to just give Andrew a chance. Desmond had said he had no chances for his father normally. He said he had no patience for it, not anymore. This time though, he did.

"What was she like?" Desmond asked after a long silence that seemed to have stretched to infinity.

"Who?"

"My mother. What was she like?" There was always that nagging in the back of his mind about her growing up. He'd always just wanted her to come out of her room, just once, to come see him. Duncan never talked about their mom. He acted like she was their pet, and he needed to take care of her like he needed to take care of Desmond. If he didn't no one else would. Certainly not their dad. Andrew liked to pretend Kaley didn’t exist. Maybe he was ashamed, or grieving, he never knew.

Andrew had a visible weight appear on his shoulders. With his eyes he motioned for Desmond to take a few steps from where they were standing and they both sat at the chairs at the two work stations. Desmond sat at Rebecca’s, it was rendering D2’s latest experience as Eve still, the script chugging across the screen.

Looking at Andrew Desmond saw how old he was, for the first time really. He was almost sixty now. Grandfather age. That'd never happen. Duncan was dead and Desmond would probably be dead at the end of all this too. No one to carry on the Miles name. The long legacy that had gone into creating Desmond would end with him. Desmond said nothing to prompt him, knowing the old man needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Unless he was mad Andrew never spoke without thinking it through.

"Your mother, before you were born, was a special woman," Andrew said. "She's the only daughter of in her generation of Miles-

"Wait, I thought you were a Miles," Desmond couldn’t help but interrupt.

"No. I took her name," Andrew said. "If your grandfather had to let us marry I'd become a Miles. He was angry at your mother for it, but he was obsessed with his bloodline. Everyone from him had to be Miles. I lucked out, I got a prestigious last name out of it, and so did you and- Your brother." Desmond didn't miss the hesitation in him talking about Duncan.

"When she was younger she was much more like you. She was filled with wanderlust and hated being kept at the Willow Creek facility where she grew up. She always knew what she wanted and when she put her mind to do it nothing and no one could stop her. It was her way, or no way.

"Which is how we ended up together. You know I was an outsider. Your grandfather didn't like me. He doesn't like outsiders."

"They're a bunch of try hards," Desmond said, reciting the words his own instructors had told him back when he was a boy. Assassins kept to themselves and everyone who tried to get into their super secret club were seen as inferior, weak, not nearly as good as those born and bred Assassins. They were try hards, wanting desperately to become Assassins, but always fell short. Nothing could compete with Assassins trained from birth to fight. Not Templars, not anyone.

Andrew grimaced, "Yeah he thought that. Certainly they weren't good enough for his daughter. But Kaley..." He had a long look in his face, remembering his late wife. "You couldn't tell her what to do. As soon as you did she'd do the opposite. But she was brilliant and beautiful. She liked puzzles and codes, she was training to be a code cracker since she didn't like to fight. She hated it and always tried to get out of her Forms apparently. Would rather break her arm if it meant getting out of Forms." Desmond's lips twitched. He remembered Duncan hated Forms too and even after his arm healed he always tried to get out of them. 

"I was the guy her father wanted her no where near. So naturally within the first week of me being transferred to Willow Creek she said hello. And you didn't just ignore someone like Kaley Miles." He had the far off look in his eye again. "And I would have been stupid to ignore her."

"And?" Desmond prodded when Andrew wasn't totally forthcoming and was silent for a bit too long.

"We were both young, stupid. When your grandfather found out he punished us both. He sent me to the Farm, Kaley came with me. He was furious when we got married, had Duncan," Desmond didn't imagine the slight hesitation in his voice. He didn't seem to be lying, but Desmond knew it wasn't the whole truth. The fact that Andrew wasn't a Miles had been the biggest surprise so far. "The funny thing is is that sometimes I regret falling in with her. But she was so amazing. More than I could ever hope for, and she wasted her life to be with an outsider like me. She could have had so many bigger and better things."

"Did she regret it?" Desmond asked.

Andrew's brow furrowed a second. "At the end of her life... I can't imagine she didn't. The Farm and the world was worse off without her." Meaning when Desmond was born and she'd fallen into a depression she'd never been able to get out of. Andrew probably didn’t mean it like that, but Desmond took it like that because he couldn’t help but take it like that. That he was why the brilliant, impassioned, woman like Kaley had turned into a bed ridden shell, barely able to take care of herself and lived in a haze of depression.

What had happened to the two of them reminded Desmond of him and Lucy in a way. Altair, the grandfather, furious when his favorite, Desmond, had fallen for an outsider, Lucy. The affair had burned like a nova but was snuffed out shortly, all passion extinguished. Desmond knew his father didn't really love his mom when he'd been growing up. He could still remember what Altair had said back in New York before it'd all gone to hell. About sleeping with other people's wives. It was and wasn't like what had happened to him and Lucy. They'd been forced together, ripped apart, put back together again and then finally allowed to be as they were.

“Thank you,” Desmond said after another shared silence.

Andrew’s brows went up in surprise. “For what?”

“For telling me about my mother.” Desmond had never known. Never could have known. It’d always just been Duncan taking care of him, and then when Duncan was gone Desmond had had to take care of himself. There was no one else who would. “And I wish she’d have never met you,” he got up and Andrew said nothing, just watched him, pain etched across his face. “We all would have been better off without you, especially me.” He left his father sitting there and Andrew had no reply, though Desmond could see it in his eyes, a quick word would have been easy.

“Desmond,” Andrew said when the door opened. Desmond looked over his shoulder. “Don’t become me. I realize its an awful way.”

Desmond’s face hardened, “I’m not like you,” he said in what could have been a dangerous tone. “And I never will be. Thing we don’t have even a bit in common is I’ll fight to keep what I have. You’ll just let it slip between your fingers wishing it’d stay,” and then he left. Out in the hallway, the door between him and Andrew Desmond had to stop a moment and take a deep breath. For an insane moment he wanted to cry but it passed. “Where’s Altair?” he asked.

“This way,” Pluto said, a glowing line on the floor appeared. Desmond followed it. He found Altair at a fish tank. It had fish Desmond had never seen. Ancient things Demeter had decided she liked and wanted to keep alive and not just as genetic material in her cold storage. He was with Jake, and they were sitting, watching the fish, talking in Arabic. Desmond recognized the speech patterns, it was the old Syrian dialect of Arabic that bore a resemblance to modern Arabic but was a bit off, just like modern and middle English were.

“Hey,” Desmond said, they both turned. Altair was sitting between Jake’s legs, back to chest. It was a strangely vulnerable position Desmond had never seen Altair take before. They both turned and looked at him when he made his presence.

“Hey Des, what’s up?” Jake asked.

“You busy?” he asked Altair.

Altair looked at Jake a moment, then back at Desmond, “No. What is it?”

“I just… wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“What?”

“Did you know my mother?”

Altair didn’t move. “Yes. Why?”

Desmond moved closer and then sat next to them on the grass. Like many places in Demeter, even some of the places humans and proeathans lived, Demeter had her moss grass covering the ground. “I was talking to my dad-

“That’s never a good idea,” Altair said.

“Yeah probably. But he started talking about my mom and… well, he’s never talked about her before. I knew he wasn’t telling me all the truth about her. You were at the Farm before I was born. Did you know her before— before I was born?”

Altair frowned in a very serious manner, “What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. You know that right?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Good. Cause I don’t want you getting any stupid ideas that somehow you’re responsible for her condition,” he said sternly. “Kaley did it to herself and she regretted it her entire life.”

“Regretted what?”

“Ever meeting Andrew,” and Desmond swallowed a little. “What did he say about your mother?” Desmond told him. “Well he was right. She was brilliant, talented, beautiful, amazing, and rebellious,” Altair said. “But his relationship with her is a lie. She did want to rebel against her father, so she got with an outsider. She ended up pregnant by accident. Ruined her entire life.”

“Why?”

Altair huffed a little, “So the Order, as you know, is crazy in this century. They’re basically fanatical about their ideals. Bloodlines are jealously guarded and long lines of Assassins are bred like pure-breed dogs, only with less inbreeding,” he grimaced. “There’s a _lot_ of pressure on women of families of certain blood lines to have children, to the point that in some parts of the Order, depending on who’s running that area, abortions are not allowed. Your grandfather was, from what I heard from Kaley’s many bitching sessions about him, a complete hard ass who followed that rule like a god given law. He couldn’t even make an exception to his daughter or it’d make him look weak. So he forced her to marry Andrew, carry your brother to term, and then basically disowned her and forced her and Andrew out of Willow Creek to the Farm.

“I don’t think you realized it while you were there, but the Farm was small as far as Order compounds were concerned. It was also where they sent people the Order didn’t want to deal with or people who needed to be untraceable for a few months or years. Its so far off the grid it’s nearly impossible to find or know about unless you know exactly where it is. Your mom and dad were basically banished to the Farm. Out of sight out of mind.”

“That’s awful,” Jake said. “How the hell did that happen to the Order? Like I know it sucked during Malik’s time, but at least they’d just kill you if you broke the tenants and not send you away in isolation,” he frowned deeply.

“They were nearly wiped out several times by Templars. Each time they grew themselves again it was with even more secrecy, more rules, and different punishments that didn’t kill but would put you away so you could hopefully spawn the next generation of Assassins. That way even if you were a shame to the Order your children hopefully weren’t.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jake said.

“You’re telling me,” Desmond said. “He also said that when I ran away he didn’t look for me. My grandfather did.”

“Probably,” Altair shrugged. “We didn’t really pay too close attention to who was sent to find you, we just kept them all away from you.” He smiled a bit at Desmond. “I didn’t know your grandfather, but if he was the patriarch of the Miles family he was probably a real piece of work and not someone you wanted to meet.”

“So what he said… was a lie,” Desmond said.

“Its Andy,” Altair said like that explained the entire thing. “He lies. About everything. Its how he got to where he is now. He might have had feelings for her but I doubt he even loved your mother. She was his way into an important family. As an outsider that was huge for him. Kaley hated him when I knew her, and that more than anything is all you need to know about their relationship.”

“They still had me,” Desmond pointed out, hoping it wasn’t as grim as Altair was painting it.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid but she didn’t want you,” and a cold hand wrapped around his heart. Another important woman in his life who didn’t want him. Of course. “You and your brother were both accidents, in truth she probably wanted neither of you. At least not with Andrew. She handled Duncan but when you came along,” Altair frowned.

“What?” Desmond prompted.

“It isn’t your fault,” Altair said. “It’s Andrew’s. He thought Duncan was a useless son for the Assassins. He was right, in a way. The Assassins ruin boys like your brother.”

“They did ruin my brother,” Desmond said.

“I only know that Kaley didn’t want any more kids. But well, here you are,” Altair looked him up and down. “Andrew’s second try. Second failure at what he wanted out of a son. A worthy successor to the Assassins, someone who’d make Kaley’s family care.”

Desmond looked at the big aquarium sized tank. “So I’m just a jacked up mistake,” he said and then leaned back some.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Jake said quickly. “I was a mistake too.” They both looked at him. “Apparently my birth mom put me up for adoption cause she was supposed to marry this guy aaaand, well I wasn’t his kid and he was pissed about it. That’s what my moms told me at least. People make mistakes, it doesn’t mean _you’re_ a mistake.”

“Yeah but you’re different. Your moms actually loved you,” Desmond said.

“Yeah and? Your dads love you too though,” Jake said and Desmond gave him a weird look. “What? Don’t look at me like that. You know exactly what I mean.” He glanced down at Altair, who didn’t notice and was also giving Jake a weird look.

“What the hell are you talking about Jake?” Altair asked. Desmond just sort of laughed. “What? Did I miss a joke here or something?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Desmond said, more talking to Jake than Altair. “Weird way of showing it though.”

“Eh, they’re stupid what can you do about it?” Jake asked.

“What are you two going on about?” Altair asked.

“Nothing old man,” and Jake gave him what could only be described as a noogie. That, expectedly, pissed Altair off and Desmond laughed when Altair jumped Jake. There was a brief wrestling match where Altair got Jake into a headlock and gave him a super noogie till Jake howled for mercy. They didn’t get up though and except for taking Jake out of the headlock Altair basically stayed laying on top of Jake, who didn’t seem to mind the intimacy.

“Thanks Jake,” Desmond said with a smile.

Jake smiled back, “Hey, what are friends for, right?”


	45. The Freer: Thunderbird

The assembled are waiting for me but I am still here stalling. Today is the moment, the moment of decision, of action. This is our day of triumph, the day we free ourselves from this nightmare we’ve been living for millennia. Today we fix the wrong made so long ago when our ancestors first stumbled upon Atlantis, first gazed upon the Idol in the city, the first time we felt the E’dn for the first time. Today will be the turning point of this War and soon we will be free. Today we are our mightiest, our fiercest, our greatest, our bravest.

I’ve never been more afraid. 

I threw up this morning and last night I could keep nothing down. I can’t let my people know, they’d worry. Worry I’m not strong enough. I can’t face myself, let alone my people. The sin on my hands is so great. 

All the blood.

For a moment my eyes prick with tears but I will them away as the ghost of a name drifts from the back of my mind. His blood on my hands and because of that I will never be clean. 

I can still remember the day Adam came to the Garden in Atlantis from his old master’s plantation. So tall and skinny and afraid. He was afraid of us with our yellow eyes, shifting in and out of sight. But he was the best of us and I killed him.

I killed him.

Next to me the vessel twinkles in mocking brilliance. I can’t bear to part with it though it fills me with such shame.

There’s a knock on my door. ‘Eve!’ they call and I feel a great chill, ‘We’re ready.’

They’re ready. I am not.

‘Saturn, give me strength. Please,’ I whisper in prayer. The visage of the goddess is an old lithograph from a Wanted poster printed centuries ago. Rebels preserved it and the colors are still perfect and clear. Unlike the other gods Saturn is special to all of us in this War. She was _real_ and looked like me. Unlike the Fourteen she was _human_.

She’d led the fight in the First Uprising. Strong and fierce and never lost, never backed down. Her face had been plastered across Gardens across the world, she was enemy number one of the entire proeathan world. Saturn had been a warrior goddess in truth and had shunned all the teachings the proeathans forced upon us. She’d learned the old teachings from humans who’d managed to stay secluded for so long. Illusion and empathy and more beyond the simple dream sharing. Nothing like the proeathan _sikaz_ but just as powerful, but different. In the middle of her rebellion proeathans had sent angels to kill her, forced into obedience by the very thing that makes humans such wonderful, social, creatures. They used the gift of our species and twisted it into something ugly, something monstrous.

We’ve never forgiven them for killing Saturn.

Saturn is our goddess now. The proeathans can’t have her. No matter how they try to expunge her humanity and wash her of her angelic nature and lie to the other proeathans that she was like them we know the truth. We know she was human. One of their _precious_ gods an angel. Fifteen. Our blessed Fifteen, and not even Sixteen can make us forget. She tried. Oh Eros tried to quench our rage at the loss of our Saturn but such a fire does not die. It will be tamed, turned to embers, but crack them open and you can still start a wildfire.

I feel Saturn fill me. For an insane moment I wonder if this is what proeathans feel in the presence of good luck. They say its like being touched by a god. I feel that. Saturn gives me strength and some of my fear leaves me. I remind myself Saturn won a great battle the morning of her third son’s birth. If she can win a fight after the pains of a birth then I can surely end this without.

I grab up the vessel and open the door. Zaphenath-Panea  is standing there, waiting for me. As usual, he’s perfect. He is my other half, my other everything. I couldn’t live without him. Funny. I used to think the same about Adam. Yet here I am. Of anyone he’s the only one who has even the slightest idea that I’m afraid, that fear is an old friend to me.

‘We were waiting,’ he says. His voice is deep and he speaks in a soft tone. Not out of secrecy, but because Zaphenath-Panea  couldn’t speak loudly if he wanted. I never have to strain to hear him though. His voice always reminds me of when we were young and sleeping in the Garden barracks together, sleeping opposite each other in the hallway, whispering in the dark and only pretending to sleep when one of the arch’s passed by to make sure their flock was asleep.

‘Well wait no more, here I am,’ I say. The vessel falls into the pouch on my hip. ‘Lets not waste more time.’ He turns with a soft, kind, smile, and heads out, expecting me to follow. As I do I swallow. I remind myself of Saturn. I am Saturn. Nothing can hurt me.

As we walk down the halls of the abandoned garrison I bring myself up. In the pouch I can feel the vessel stirring. It calls to me but I ignore it. I will only use it when I have need of him. Not before. Angels are a step above our normal human kin and they look to us with the same awe they do the gods, as Saturn. To them we might as well be gods. It is a shame. It means we get little rest and we must always be showing ourselves for what we are.

We walk and on either side of me there is another me, both the same as me, a perfect likeness. There was a time when such illusions would leave me drained. That was then. Now I do not even pause in my step.

When we leave the garrison there are our people. Our army. Ready, waiting. Class-gen numia form a corridor on the field and there are platoons waiting to board each one. It is a beautiful day. The sky is clear, the sun is shining. I swallow again and take a deep breath. The illusions next to me do not falter. Those near us see us first and turn and stare. I am their commander, a title I never wanted, but take it because no one else will. Looking out across all these people I know many of them won’t make it back.

Not for the first time I wonder if I will make it back to our garrison.

Next to me Zaphenath-Panea offers me one of his many slight, kind, smiles. ‘Shall we?’ he asks me.

‘I suppose its now or never,’ I say and my two illusions speak in my voice. It gives my voice an echoey quality I have never gotten used to.

‘We await your signal,’ he reminds me. Zaphenath-Panea is always so patient with me. He knows me better than anyone, better than myself even sometimes.

I look out down the corridor. More humans and angels alike have noticed us. Beyond the class-gen numia are the larger class-adi ones who hold the rank and file. The faceless masses of our army. Cargo numia. Repurposed slave transports. The conditions in them today are much less cramped than they were originally used for. 

The angels shimmer in the light. Illusionists stand amid fire and light and rain and clones of themselves. Empaths pull back the layers around them, seeing us all for the scared little children we are, playing in a war against beings more powerful than us. _Chentars_ are ringed by our strongest fighters who are drawn to them like moths to a flame. Shamans look at us, sightless, but able to see so far. Other angels who still practice the _sikaz_. Old and wizen pyromancers of Netalln stand bent over next to youngsters who have to hold them up. They spent their entire lives to master the proeathan _sikaz_ and now they will use it on their former masters. There are similar mancers for the rest of the elemental sikaz. And then there are the most dangerous. Our Cains.

They’re all waiting for me and every one of them is going into this knowing they’ll die. Not a single one hasn’t lost someone. We’ve all been ripped from our homes and forced into the Gardens made by the proeathans. Forced to bend under them. We all come from somewhere else.

Today I’m to end it. Today we make our last stand. If I fail, so does the rebellion. The angels know it. We can see it in our dreams. I succeed in one future, fail in another and it changes by the day, the hour, the moment. One second I’m the savior, the next I’m the enslaver. All the angels know their lives hang on that thread and if I fail they are all damned to vessels. Just like Adam.

A class-dua numia is waiting nearby for me and Zaphenath-Panea and I want to board. I can’t yet. There is the ritual left and I must abide. I look up at the sky, its still so bright and blue. My illusion clones fade. Above the sky darkens. All an illusion. To affect so many is no easy task and I know after this I will have to vomit. For now I stand strong, staring up at the sky. Clouds form rapidly, even the shadows change. Saturn always fought her battles in the rain. Proeathans _feared_ the rain itself while she led the first uprising since that was when she struck. Today I give my people the illusion of rain. They all know it for what it is. Saturn watching over us. Our blessed goddess, number Fifteen, guiding us in this battle. Down the corridor angels and humans cross themselves and I can see Saturn’s names on their lips to be blessed.

A false rain falls, dotting the field and the paths between the grass, darkening the stones. I begin to feel the strain when I make dark spots appear on clothes as though touched by rain.

‘That’s enough,’ Zaphenath-Panea says softly, touching my arm, reminding me of reality. ‘You’ve done enough.’

I close my eyes and lift the rain. It falls up towards the sky. My people raise their hands upwards as if to catch it. The angels know what I do is illusion. The humans though, they think we are magic. They think we can actually control the weather or summon the presence of Saturn. In the distance, down the corridor by the class-adi, I can hear some of them call her name. I open my eyes and the clouds are all that remain of my false rain. The angels have fallen back into themselves and they appear less mighty than before. They know its just a trick but I can see it on their faces they want to believe. They want to believe our _stadalla_ walks with us.

I board the class-dua numia, Zaphenath-Panea right behind me. There is a small crew in there, all angelic. All loyal. I fall into a chair and as the door is closed Zaphenath-Panea offers me a bucket. I vomit and what comes up is stomach acid which makes me puke harder. There’s nothing left and I curl up in the chair, facing the window and pull out Adam’s vessel. It pulses in my hand and I curl around it. The numia lifts off and I release my illusion. The clouds outside fade and I can see my people boarding their numia. 

We are going to T’bkan. The proeathans know we’re coming. They still have angels and force them to dream share with us. We try to blind them and they beg us to not speak in front of them but some things can’t be fully controlled. We’re too removed from our power still. All our illusions and empathy and _chentars_ are new skills. It’s only been a few generations since we’ve taken the E’dn back like it always belonged to us. We can’t control it like we should. We can’t always control what we share. So they know where we’re going and we know they know and what they’re planning. They don’t know why we want to go to T’bkan. It is our Idol and we’re loathe to let them know this. The terror those proeathans would feel if they knew. 

T’bkan will have to wait. The use of the E’dn doesn’t destroy me like it did when I first learned to use it, but illusions on such a scale still make me weary beyond belief. I close my eyes and next to me I feel more than see Zaphenath-Panea sit next to me. He puts a hand on my leg but I don’t look at him. I close my eyes and the vessel in my hand glitters. I smile a pained smile when Adam sings to me and I almost sleep.


	46. A Down Comforter

Shaun found him sleeping. Desmond woke to his footsteps and when he opened his eyes, some explanation or lie on his lips they died when he saw Shaun. Shaun just looked over at him as he sat at his station, a mug of steaming tea in one hand. Desmond sat up, a bit wide eyed and worried, wondering what he’d think. He’d guessed Shaun had guessed he napped on the Animus but last night had been the first night he’d just slept in it the full night.

“Shaun I-

“Its okay,” Shaun just said.

“Yeah but-

“You don’t have to _explain,_ Desmond,” Shaun said. “I understand.”

“Do you. Really?”

“I understand nightmares, if nothing else,” Shaun said seriously.

“When’d you figure it out?”

“I didn’t,” Shaun sipped his tea and started up his computer, looking at the screen to make sure the thing turned on. “Hawk told me.”

“Hawk?”

“Yeah. He knows.”

Desmond hesitated, “Do the others?”

“I don’t think so. I think its just me and him.”

“Why’d he tell you?”

Shaun grimaced. “Said I’d ‘know how to handle it’. Like he figured Rebecca wouldn’t have been able to. Altair and Ezio would probably freak and she’d worry her head off about it.”

“Oh.”

“You might wanna go though. I asked Rebecca to get me something from our room before she came in to work but she shouldn’t be long.”

Desmond just stared at him for a few seconds. “Right!” Desmond jumped to his feet. “I’ll— see you later then,” he said awkwardly.

“After breakfast,” Shaun said with a bit of a wry smile. “We’ll figure out how we’re going to handle Toba. Or T’bkan rather.”

“Yeah,” Desmond nodded slowly. “See you,” and then he left. He felt Shaun watch him leave and felt awkward about the entire thing. He hadn’t meant for anyone to see him in there. And Hawk knew? How did Hawk know? Best way to find out was to ask him Desmond supposed. 

Oh this was going to be a conversation Desmond wasn’t going to like.

He found Hawk, with Demeter’s help, in one of the computer station rooms. He was looking up at a large, holographic, projection of the globe and doing something on the console. He looked up when Desmond entered.

“Little Bird,” he said in greeting.

“Hey Hawk,” he said.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you feeling?” Desmond grit his teeth and did his best not to grimace. “Fantastic I see,” Hawk said, only a bit sarcastically and went back to what he’d been doing.

Desmond went and sat next to him at the console. “You know where I slept last night?”

“No,” Hawk said, still not looking at him, “but I can guess.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be in that situation. Something breaks you and turns you into something else and it’s what reminds you of yourself before you were broken,” he stopped what he was doing and looked at Desmond. “Its why I still keep my Apple with me. Why I sleep with it.”

“You tell Altair, Ezio?”

“I’ve only told Glasses. I figured it was for the best so he could keep Crane out of the room so you could rest.” It took Desmond a moment to realize that Hawk wasn’t using Rebecca’s last name as a last name, rather it was his weird bird thing. Yet Shaun didn’t have a bird name going on. Hawk only gave people he liked those names.

“Why didn’t you tell Rebecca. You like her more,” Desmond said.

“She worries too much. Last thing _you_ need is another person worrying their head over you. Bad enough Ezio and Altair are doing it. And she feels so bad for what she let happen to you. She wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you sleep in her Animus.”

“That’s… surprisingly nice of you Hawk,” Desmond said.

“I can be nice,” Hawk said, offended.

“I know,” Desmond said with a grin. “So what are you doing?”

“Looking at the world before Toba,” Hawk said.

“Really? Anything interesting?”

Hawk gave him a look, “Yes. But I’m not telling you about any of it until you go have breakfast.”

“I did,” Desmond lied.

“No you didn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I _know_ ,” Hawk stressed. Desmond pouted at him. “Go eat something and after breakfast we will talk about what is to be done.”

Desmond sighed, “Fiiiine. Knowing you you’d tattle to Altair or Ezio I didn’t have breakfast.”

“You’re right. I did,” Hawk grinned.

“Did—?”

Like Hawk and Ezio had somehow planned the entire thing the door opened and Ezio strolled in, something almost like a skip in his step and pushing a breakfast cart. He wheeled right up to Hawk’s side. “Ah, you were right,” Ezio said.

“ _Please_ don’t tell me you planned this,” Desmond practically begged.

“Nah. I always have to come shove breakfast at Hawk. He said he was having company this morning and lookie lookie he was right,” Ezio said and gave Desmond an affectionate hair ruffle. “And now I don’t have to eat with this boring louse. I can eat with my _infinitely_ more interesting grandson.” Ezio was practically beaming at Desmond.

Desmond looked up at Ezio helplessly before he just smiled. He couldn’t help it. He forgot how unashamedly upbeat Ezio could be. Even with everything going on. “Yeah well who says I wanna eat with you two old geezers anyway?” Desmond said in the same tone that would imply sticking your tongue out like a four year old and he folded his arms.

“Ah well, you have no choice,” Ezio said very seriously. “And its us, or Altair, and you know how Altair is around food,” he huffed.

Desmond chuckled. “I’ll be honest. The last time I saw Altair eat he picked a fight with Cain and Cain stabbed him in the hand,” he said.

“See! My point exactly! Wouldn’t you much rather have a nice, relaxing, stress free, breakfast with me and Hawk?” Ezio asked and had a big corny smile on. Desmond softened.

“Yeah. That actually sounds really nice when you put it like that.”

“Excellent!” Ezio said and dragged Desmond out of his seat to come see what he’d brought them for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay  
> AO3 is caught up lol


	47. Butterfly Knife

In a word; it was Grim. Grim with a capital G.

There was no Toba. There was nothing. Eve had turned it into a crater. She’d been the only one to walk away from the mess, laughing and crying bitterly, crawling from the destruction she’d wrecked upon the world. But there was nothing left there, nothing for _them_. Whatever she’d done had blown a huge hole in the world and wiped out hundreds of thousands to millions of proeathans of the Unified Army in a single moment. It was on the scale of an atomic bomb being dropped. One moment there had been the construct and the Unified Army and the freed angelic choir and then… nothing. The sea had filled the hole and the world forgot.

No one was happy about the news.

After the memory D2 had lived through had played, in as clear a picture as Rebecca could make it, no one said anything. They just sat, looking at the screen.

“Well, we’re fucked,” Jake finally said. “All that bullshit for _nothing_.”

“Told you Eve was a dead end,” Cain scoffed.

“Well I didn’t see any of _you_ brainiacs coming up with any good ideas,” Shaun sniped.

“We’ll think of something,” Od said.

“Like what? What the hell do we have?” Ezio demanded. “Eve blew the entire thing to Kingdom Come! There’s nothing there. We thought it was a fucking astroid impact.”

“We’ll just do something else then,” Od said.

“Like _what_?” Ezio stressed.

“Rebecca,” Desmond said, “can you go back, to when Eve entered the construct?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rebecca said and by now everyone had stopped arguing. She restarted the memory and ran it through on a higher speed.

“Stop there,” Desmond said. Rebecca stopped the memory.

“What is it?” Altair asked.

“I’ve been there,” Desmond said, looking at the screen and the wireframe of the building. Rebecca had been working on full textures but that far back they were lucky to have the wireframe. At the very least she’d added values to the memory so it wasn’t such a mess. The construct was a big, ugly, blocky building that was a sort of bent pyramid- only instead of convex the curve was concave, and it was a curve, not a bend- with an ornate door. Based on the memory the inside was hollow and at the center was some sort of pillar Rebecca couldn’t render out for some reason, the top open to air.

“What? What do you mean you’ve been there?” Altair asked.

“Well, I was somewhere _like_ that,” Desmond corrected himself. “In the Pacific. I went into it and raised Atlantis. It looks exactly the same as that.”

So there are _more_ of these things?” Jake asked. “Great, just what we need: multiple doomsday buildings!”

“They’re only doomsday buildings when psychics access them,” Desmond said. “Like Eve.”

“Like you,” Lucy said quietly.

“Eve fucked up,” Desmond said and got up from the chair he’d been sitting in and went up to the screen. “Play it,” he told Rebecca. He watched the wireframe till Eve came to the pillar. “Stop. This thing here, it can’t be rendered. Why not?” he asked Rebecca.

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

“I know why. I was there. It gives off a psychic noise. Blocks you from remembering what it looks like. I can’t remember what the one in the Pacific looks like either really. But I know it was the same. What Eve does next is wrong. She uses the Apple with it. But it doesn’t work, as we saw.”

“Then what do we use if not an Apple?” Hawk asked.

“ _Elaurin_ were the height of our technology,” Od put in. “If not them, then what?”

Desmond put his hand on his wrist, covering the black band. It came off in his hand and he showed them. “This,” he said. It had formed into a ball now, about the size of a baseball. “I got it in the Pacific construct. Woke up with the damn thing on my wrist after I rose Atlantis.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna ask the stupid question so none of you smart people feel stupid: What is it?” Jake said.

“I’m not sure,” Desmond admitted and closed his hand. As he did the ball shifted and in an instant it was a perfect, lethally, sharp, knife that fit perfectly in his palm. “A weapon?” he twirled the knife and it became something that had a shape he didn’t quite understand but knew what it was for, “A key?" He changed his grip and it became a ping pong board. "Shit, a toy? I have no idea. It just kinda likes me.” He relaxed his grip and it slid back around his wrist to become the thick black band once more.

“The Adjatevs took hours to cut it off you,” Cain said mildly, like he was commenting on the weather. “They thought it was obsidian, or a black diamond trinket. Idiots were going to throw it away.”

"Well what is it?" Jake pressed.

"I don't know," Cain admitted. "I've never seen it before."

"Something you've never seen? Well, I've seen everything," Jake said.

"What about you lot?" Shaun asked Od.

"I've never seen anything like it," he confessed. "Our vessels are metallic our world of metal, stone and _saddrim_. Nothing like that. It's almost as though it's intelligent."

"Vessels are intelligent," Altair pointed out.

"He means like a smart material," Hawk said. "It can change shape at will," he looked at Desmond to make sure that was true. Desmond nodded. "Vessels can't. They're different. Vessels have soul, but that material is smart."

"And no one. Not anyone in this entire room. Not any of you smart or stupidly old people, know what it is?" Jake asked. There was no answer. "Fantastic."

"If Desmond has it it must be important though," and Desmond almost winced. He'd forgotten Andrew was even here. He led the remaining Assassins and those freed humans who'd wanted to join to be part of something other than simply 'the rebellion'. All the leaders were present here. "Even if we don't know what it is. The universe doesn't work on chances. Everything has a path. Not when you black out without something and wake up with something."

"He's got a point," Rebecca said.

"Yeah but why is it? What does it do? What's it for?"

"If I may?" Hera spoke up.

"Go ahead," Desmond said.

"There are transcripts in the old faceless grand libraries on Atlantis," she said. "That recount the legacy of the Sixteen. There is one that says that Jupiter used a black knife upon themself after they returned from _hotai_. It is known as the Godkilling Knife. It was never recovered and instead all that was found was a single, black, ball. The location of the ball is unknown. Apparently it was taken into faceless custody after Jupiter’s suicide but...

"But you lost it didn't you?" Desmond said.

"Much like many old things, it was shuffled around and the faceless did lose track of the ball. The ball I believe now is actually the Godkilling Knife, only without the agency of a god to form it it reverted to its original form. A ball."

"That doesn't explain what it is," Shaun wasn't impressed by the story.

"It's a god's tool of course," Hera said, insulted.

"Can we not talk about it like it responds to me cause I'm a god. I'm not," Desmond said.

"For now," was all Od said and Desmond really didn't like the sound of that. 

"You ever hear of that story?" Altair asked Od.

"There are many stories of the Sixteen. I am not familiar with all of them. Most are only familiar with the stories of their patrons. Mine is Saturn." He looked to Zorya who'd been sitting there silently the entire time.

"They said Jupiter went mad," she said in her thick accent. "Given power he didn't understand or know how to control. He saw things, visions of destruction and life. He said the stadalla would come, and would burn the world. He went to _hotai_ and returned in madness. When he returned he said he would end the world. Jupiter is a gentle God in our pantheon. He did not rip the world asunder. He instead saved us from himself. He killed himself knowing that otherwise he would destroy us."

"A noble sacrifice," Hera said.

"You would say that," Pluto said bitterly.

"There are many tales of Jupiter. That is just one of them," Zorya added. "The more well known one," she was practically scornful.

"Probably not the one you like him being known for," Hawk said.

"No one likes their patron being remembered as a mad man. At least I was not born under Saturn, or the Twins," her nose wrinkled. Od said nothing. Maybe he even agreed.

"So, we know it's a knife. What else?" Altair asked.

"I have no other records of the blade," Hera said. "Or any blades like it. Nor do the rest of us."

"Unfortunate," Desmond said. "Regardless. It's connected to that building. And if the one in the Pacific is anything like Toba then it can do things. Terrible things. It might also be exactly what we need. Fact is, Toba’s gone. But we have this one, an extra. Who the hell gets an extra doomsday building?"

"You would, of course," Jake scoffed. Desmond grinned.

"So what? The plan's gone from 'Toba' to 'doomsday building number two?'" Ezio said.

"Looks like," Desmond said.

"How'd you even get there?" Altair asked.

"I walked. After the ice age the sea level dropped. Originally it was in a cave that was underwater. Sea level dropped and there's about a foot of water all around its atoll now. I could just walk right in."

"How'd it stay hidden?" Shaun said.

"It is literally in the middle of the fucking ocean is why," Desmond said.

"... Then how'd you get there?"

"Took a numia. It lasted long enough to get me there and to the mainland again from Artemis. Then it broke."

"I should point out it barely got you to Japan," Artemis said. "You're lucky it didn't crash into the sea half way from the atoll."

"It didn't. So what's it matter," Desmond said. 

"Something you left out in your tale," Altair practically growled.

"What? I wasn't gonna tell you about all the times I nearly died. Doesn't matter, I'm alive now. Moving on. We can get to the thing in the Pacific."

"Which is where exactly?"

"Here," Mercury took control of the room and brought up a holographic globe. It zoomed in on the middle of the ocean and then high lightened a tiny island. A flag appeared next to it showing the longitude and latitude.

"We can fly there," Lucy said. 

"We're not doing anything without seeing what's waiting for us," Altair said. "Didn't you say it sent out a beacon from raising Atlantis? If that's true than the proeathans know its there. They could be waiting for us."

"There and Atlantis?" Desmond asked.

"People who are at the end of the line are the most dangerous. Humans and proeathans aren't that different. They know we have you, or at least that you're free. They're going to be doing everything in their power to make sure you never get an upper hand. If that means splitting their forces, so be it. They know if they lose this time they lose for real. There's no hiding away this time. They're backed into a corner by you as much as humans are by them."

"Do or die," Ezio agreed.

"Well. We better get started then," Desmond said. "The construct rose Atlantis, and blew up creating an EMP. We know it can do some crazy stuff. Could cut is a path to Atlantis. Before I blacked out I sensed a huge amount of power in the construct and that what I was seeing was only a small part of the entire thing sort of like the proeathan 'temples' we've been finding for centuries."

"What do you want to do?" Altair asked.

"Od will send a scout out. This won't be like the mine. I want them to fly high and only observe. I also want some humans with them. Some of our new Vision users. Proeathans don't empathetically see the same way we do. But if what you said is right then we'll probably have to fight to get in. We'll go from there when the scout comes back. Sound good?"

No one spoke a moment, "Not the worst plan I've ever heard," Cain said. Coming from the ancient that meant a lot since Cain constantly criticized Desmond for not having any plan or a shitty one. “Abel has had much worse than that."

"Fuck off Cain," Altair growled. Cain just winked at Altair.

"Od," Desmond turned to the Ando.

Od was frowning. "It will be done. After the events at the mine I do not like the idea of sending my people into more danger but... I see what must be done," he sighed.

"Good. We'll start immediately. I want a numia out of Demeter in three hours. Chose your men or volunteers, I don't care. I want the crew to have at least three Vision seers. Ezio, you'll be picking the humans to accompany Od's scout." Ezio nodded. Desmond didn't know what else to say. "That's all we can do for now. Let's get to work."


	48. Albireo

Desmond met his clone in their room. D2 was sitting against the wall staring at nothing. When Desmond close the door he started and his eyes focused on Desmond. D2 got to his feet and moved further from Desmond than before.

“Relax, I’m not here to hurt you,” Desmond said.

“Yeah. Fuck you,” D2 growled.

Desmond didn’t take his bait. “How bad is it?”

“You _know_ how bad it is,” D2 hissed. “You only have two. You can ignore them. I can _hear them_. All the time.”

Desmond felt bad at the same time he did feel bad. “I’m sorry.”

“Spare me your pity.”

“I don’t-

“You do. You pity me. I hate it. I hate pity. You hate pity. Don’t be to me what the others are to you. I don’t appreciate it.”

Desmond stood there a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry for pitying you.”

“Better,” D2 said in a short, angry, tone. “Now what do you want?”

“I just came to tell you that,” he’d come here to lie. He’d come to tell D2 that his sacrifice had meant something. That the ghosts and voices in his head had led them to victory. That his Bleeding was worth it. Despite the block Cain had given D2 he still Bled. He was overflowing like Clay had been. Too many ghosts and no block could hold back that tide. Standing here now, face to face with himself, Desmond couldn’t. He couldn’t _lie_ to himself like that anymore. “Eve was a dead end.”

D2 turned away, “Motherfucker,” he cursed. “So you killed me. For nothing,” he smiled but it hurt and folded his arms tightly across his chest. D2 looked about to cry. “I’m dead. And I wasn’t even useful.” He sniffed once. “Not unexpected from the clone of a useless jerk like you I guess.”

“We’ve got a plan though.”

“Great,” D2 said, without heat or hate.

“And we have no use for you now.” D2 glared at him. “So I have no reason to keep you under lock and key anymore. Your cooperation is no longer required.”

D2 was slow on the uptake and then he stared at Desmond. “What?”

Behind Desmond the door opened. “I don’t need you anymore. I figure, you’re going to die soon anyway. Either your brain’s going to shut down, or you’re going to commit suicide like Clay did to stop the voices. So long as you’re peaceful, you can move around Demeter as you want.”

“You’re joking,” D2 said.

“No. I’m not. My AI will be watching your every move though. Don’t stick out, don’t cause a scene, keep it together as long as you can. So long as you don’t do something stupid, you can do what you want. If you do, you’ll be right back here until I feel too guilty about keeping you alive as you start to break down and mercy kill you.” D2 swallowed.

D2 was Desmond, he knew there was a catch. Rules. Desmond had all sorts of rules about new lives he lived. Kept it interesting. Like he couldn’t live as the same name twice. Or he couldn’t move back to old neighborhoods. He had to talk to homeless people. This time he was going to date a man, or that time a girl. This life he was going to learn a skill, play an instrument. Something so he had something else to do than work out and go to work so he didn’t go insane. It became a game, sort of like a puzzle he had to complete before he started to feel uncomfortable in a place and decided it was time to leave.

“And?” D2 asked.

“You can’t talk to me, or Lucy, or any of my friends. Get your own fucking life. Come up with a new name. You can’t go by Desmond. That’s me. At night you need to come back here. This is your designated room, same as everyone else’s. Do _not_ try to play my AI. They won’t listen to you. Demeter doesn’t like even people touch her things, or mess with her gardens. Don’t be an idiot about it. She will lock you in your room the same she does to anyone who makes her angry or decides to hurt her plants or animals. Understand?”

“Basically, don’t be a dick, don’t talk to you, ever, and come home for bed.”

“Easy, right?” Desmond said.

“I dunno. I’m you, and you’re a dick. It might be a challenge.”

“I’m trying to be nice here. Don’t make me regret it, buddy.”

“Fine,” D2 shrugged. “Do the others know?”

“No.”

“Which is why you don’t want them to know.”

“Altair’s ready to put you out of your misery now that you’re no longer useful. Ezio and Hawk are in agreement. I said I felt bad for you, so you aren’t dead now. If you prove to be a liability for us I will let them do what they think they should.”

D2 was quiet a moment. “How about Phil? We always kinda liked Phil,” D2 said.

Desmond didn’t even miss a beat. “You don’t look like a Phil.”

“No. I guess now. Randy?” Desmond shook his head. “Randy’s are bigger dicks than you anyway,” D2 scoffed. “Hmmm. Tom?”

“You could be a Tom,” Desmond agreed. “At least it isn’t Jack or John.”

“Pffft, I’m not that fucking lame,” D2 smirked.

“Yeah you are,” Desmond said.

“So is that all, Desmond?”

Desmond looked around the little room, then back at D2. “Yeah, I guess so. Have fun Tommy. Don’t get in trouble.”

“I’ll try.” Desmond nodded and then left. He was getting into the lift down the hall and he could see D2 easing out of his room to make sure it wasn’t a trick. As the door closed he saw D2 step fully into the hallway with a smile. Desmond felt a bit less heavy as he left him there.


	49. A Storm of Storks

Desmond was meditating in one of Demeter’s gardens. It was about as close as he could get to sleep. As soon as he slept he slipped somewhere else. He didn’t really ‘sleep’ anymore so much as he rested. Rested his brain mainly. Sleeping led to dreamsharing and Desmond still wasn’t terribly good at that yet. He sometimes went to the place the AI consciousnesses were and saw the pitiful star scape of humanity but he quickly woke from that. The lucid dreaming wasn’t much better since it was less lucid dreaming and more lucid nightmares.

Meditating allowed him to rest and also stay alert. He was a fucking psychic, he could do psychic things. That was about as good as he could describe some of the things he did. He could do things proeathans could and couldn’t do. Things humans couldn’t do. He liked monitoring everyone in Demeter via the Ellderin Third Eye _sikaz_. 

Every human was a little wisp of bright smoke, curled and coiled. They shimmered like distant stars of a night sky’s background. The Ilythians were slightly brighter and moved in different shapes. They reminded desmond of ents from the Lord of the Rings movie he’d seen. They were tall, long and narrow with stilted legs and bodies that were constantly caught in a wind. The humans weren’t blown back. They stayed in their skins.

There were brighter stars too. Cain was a nova that blocked an entire portion of Demeter from Desmond’s sight. He was a sun and Desmond always kept his third eye focused elsewhere. Altair, Ezio, Hawk, and Jake were crisp, bright, stars. His ancestors shown brighter than Jake. Desmond could look at them, they didn’t blind him.

The oddest of the things Desmond could see were the humans and Ilythians who shown brightly but weren’t anyone in particular. There were only a few of them. Like Desmond they shown and twinkled in his mind’s eye. Unlike him wisps of their light scattered away from them. Where Desmond’s little ‘solar flares’ stayed in his skin theirs arced away and influenced things around them. Sometimes they’d touch another pale wisp and for a moment the wisp glowed stronger.

“Desmond, the scout had returned from the Pacific,” Demeter said.

Desmond opened his eyes slowly and yawned. He felt more rested, which was good. He rubbed his eyes and what he’d seen through the Third Eye faded. He just did it to relax, the way the wisps moved reminded him of food coloring in a water tank with the gentlest current. What he saw wasn’t important.

“We meeting at the main comm room?” Desmond groaned and got to his feet, half shambling to the door.

“Yes, Desmond.”

“Great. Fuck, what time is it?”

“Four in the morning,” Demeter said.

“Fuuuck, okay. I’m on my way. Get Altair, Ezio, Od. That’s it. I want the head of Ilythian and human from the mission as well.”

“No Cain?”

“No. He can hear what happened in the morning,” he left the room. As he did his hand trailed along the wall. He left glowing marks in his wake. For once he was going without wearing the full black get-up. He wore just a t-shirt and pants. Demeter was dim this time of night and Desmond lit his own way to a lift.

“Ezio complained,” she said.

“Don’t care,” Desmond said, poking the lift controls to get to where he needed to go. The lift took him away. By the time the lift stopped Desmond was awake and alert. “They there?”

“Od is on his way as are the scouts, they’ll meet you there. Altair and Ezio are waiting.”

“Good,” and Desmond opened the door. The ‘round table’ was considerably more empty than before they’d sent the scouts. “Morning,” he said.

“Jake sends his complaints,” was all Altair said.

“Jake can literally go suck a dick,” Desmond said as he fell into one of the chairs.

“I’ll tell him that.”

“I’m sure you will,” Desmond did his best leer and Altair met it. At least for a few seconds before turning away, biting his lips to keep a smile down.

“I hate you,” Ezio greeted him. “I was mid dream.”

“You’ll have others,” Desmond promised him.

“Bleeehg,” Ezio complained. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just have Altair come here. He probably wasn’t even sleeping and just watching Jake sleep like a fucking weirdo.”

“What I do with Jake is one hundred percent my own business,” Altair said blandly.

“Weirrrdo,” Ezio said again.

“What are you smiling at?” Altair asked.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah huh.”

“Just. Glad you finally came out of the closet gramps,” Desmond grinned cheekily. There was a second of silence broken up by Ezio’s ridiculously loud laughter that only people of Spanish and Italian heritage were able to really convey.

“Shut up, kid,” Altair growled. “You too!” he snapped at Ezio. That just made Ezio laugh harder. “I’m putting you Under if you don’t knock it off!”

“Yeah, sure,” Ezio giggled.

“What’s going on in here?” Od’s voice asked as the door opened. He was followed by an Ilythian man and human woman.

“Nothing,” Desmond said, smiling.

“This is Magni, he commanded the scouting expedition,” Od said.

“ _Stadalla, it is an honor,_ ” Magni saluted Desmond.

“And you?” Desmond asked the woman.

“She’s one of mine,” Ezio said. “Laura commands one of the minutemen platoons.”

“Sir,” she nodded at the three of them.

“Alright. Lets talk about what you’ve seen,” Desmond said. The three new comers took a seat.

“ _I have video and images of the site and construct,_ ” Magni said.

“ _Can you speak English, Magni_?” Desmond asked.

 _“No. Apologies for the linguistic nightmare this might be_.”

Desmond sighed, _“Its alright_. _Show us what you saw_.”

Magni brought of a cube that looked a lot like the millennium cube Hawk had taken from Venus years ago. Only it was smaller. He put it on the table and one of the AI accessed it. They started playing what was on the cube.

“Ah shit,” Ezio said.

“Like I said,” Altair said.

The atoll in the middle of the ocean was only a few hundred meters across and was pure rock and sand. It looked like the peak of a mountain. Proeathans had set up base on the atoll and in the shallow water surrounding it. There were several hundred to a few thousand on the atoll. As they watched a numia from off screen landed on the atoll and opened. A bipedal machine walked itself out of the numia.

“The fuck is that?” Ezio demanded.

“Storks,” Od said. “They were cutting edge tech before our fall. We’d only just really learned to create them. Had we had a few more decades to really use them we’d have fared better in the War.”

“Thankfully for us, you didn’t,” Laura said bitterly.

“You knew they had this? Do you have this?” Altair demanded.

“Yes, and no,” Od apologized. “To pilot a stork you need to be a specially trained psychic, much like a numia pilot. Most of the Adjatev stork pilots were killed during the events at Toba. I didn’t realize they had any left.”

“Or they trained up some new ones,” Laura said.

“It takes more than five years to learn to pilot a stork-

“Humans learned to fly numia in ten days. I think some even more advanced fuck-wads like you can learn to pilot a god damn gundam in five years.”

Od scowled at Laura. “ _Please tell your woman to watch herself_.”

“And don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Laura said. “Had about enough of that with Magni and his men acting like we didn’t know they were talking about us in their gibber jabber for thirty-six hours.”

“I like her,” Desmond declared with a wide grin.

“Now you see why she leads the minutemen,” Ezio chuckled. “Laura. A little less huh? You’re making them uncomfortable.”

“Good.”

“C’mon girl. Dial it down a little.”

She huffed. “Yes sir.”

“So what else?” Desmond asked Laura and then repeated it for Magni, who was fully lost amid all the English.

“Its just a lot more of this, sirs,” Laura said. “They were bringing in reinforcements from the east and west. You’re gonna see a lot more of stuff you don’t like but the most dangerous is the storks and the smaller numia.” Od was muttering to Magni the entire time, translating for the pilot. “They got guns on the numia and things like helicopters, but different. And lots of soldiers.”

“All on that little atoll?” Altair asked.

“No sir,” she panned the camera and showed the ocean. There were ships. Big ones.

 _“The fleet here can house sixteen hundred proeathans and supplies_ ,” Magni said. “ _And there was an equally large fleet of kraken ships on the other side of the atoll_.”

“ _So we’re looking at over three thousand troops?_ ” Magni nodded. “Three thousand troops,” Desmond said.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Ezio asked.

“Did you see the construct?” Desmond asked.

“No, sir,” Laura said. “It’s still underground.”

“Good. Then they haven’t dug it out.”

They sat in silence while Desmond thought. “So, what’s the plan now?” Ezio asked.

“Well. We’re fucked,” Desmond said. “They outnumber us. Any attack we push on the construct will be met with resistance. Its suicide.”

“Then why don’t you look worried?” Altair asked uneasily.

“We’re going anyway,” Desmond said. “This time I’m going.”

“Desmond-

“ _This isn’t a debate_ ,” Desmond told Altair in Arabic. “ _I am going. I need to be there. You can’t protect me forever. I’m not a kid anymore_.” Altair sighed but didn’t argue.

“Then at least don’t go alone,” Altair said. “Bring back up. Or something.”

“Fine,” Desmond said. “I’ll take proeathans and humans. We need to be a unified front for this. Not to mention proeathans can better protect humans against proeathans and humans fighting will be a surprise to the proeathans at the atoll.”

“You wish to send my men?” Od asked.

“This is what you joined the cause for, Od,” Desmond said. “You brought your people to help me. Well, you’ve been doing a whole lot of fucking nothing since you got here. Now it’s time to pay the piper.”

“Or the devil,” Ezio said quietly.

“Whatever fancy euphemism you wanna use. Regardless. Now’s the time you came here for. This and Atlantis is what you’re here for. Time to pay up. 

I’ll select all of the members of his mission. Volunteers only. This is a suicide run. I want English speakers only from both sides. I can’t be having mixed signals or linguistic confusion during the preparation of or during the mission. We clear?”

“Yes,” Ezio said, nodding.

“Ezio, Od, I want dossiers of all volunteers sent to me. I’ll review them. Od, I want you to screen your people. Don’t let jackasses into my mission. I will kick their asses and kick them out and I don’t wanna deal with the mopiness humiliated Ilythians are. English speakers only, and try and give me more than just your standard future seers. Ezio, only people with Eagle Vision.”

“Got it,” Ezio said.

“I understand,” Od said slowly.

“Great. Good talk everyone. Get some rest and we’ll start in the morning. Hopefully we can have some good candidates by the end of the day.” With that Desmond got up. Everyone else stood and they left. Desmond stood there a bit longer, watching the video of the atoll. “Artemis,” he said.

“Yes, Desmond.”

“This construct is the same from Toba isn’t is?”

“As far as we can tell.”

“How did you know to take me there?”

“Because the end of the world happened at one of those places last time. We figured it’d be a good place to start.”

“Its not proeathan.”

“No,” she agreed.

“Then what is it?”

There was a pregnant silence. “We don’t know.”


	50. Gyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for the day. Ah, I got so much done today!

While Desmond was looking over the dossiers of the candidates for the mission the room's door opened. He looked up when a man walked in. He was tall and had fantastic hair though it was totally grey. He looked strangely familiar to Desmond but he couldn't place why. For a second Desmond wondered if he'd been one of Desmond's friend-acquaintances while out and about but he didn't think so. He was too old. His father's age, maybe older. Though unlike Andrew this man was still fit and looked dangerous. Now Desmond knew he'd never met him before, the man was an Assassin.

"Can I help you?" Desmond asked.

"No," the man said. "But I can help you. My name's John. Nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Desmond," he held his hand out. Desmond shook it.

"What can you do for me, John?" Desmond asked a bit cheekily.

"I'd like to volunteer for your mission."

"What was your last name? I have all the candidates here," Desmond indicated his station.

"Smith," John said.

"Really?"

"Really," John said and Desmond didn't prod at that lie any more. "You won't find me in there. I'm not part of Demeter's leadership."

"Well this mission is only open to ranked members with Eagle Vis- okay," Desmond nodded when John showed he could do it.

"I'm sure you can guess. I'm an Assassin, and not Andrew's favorite person. I'm highly qualified for this mission, more than the kids our would-be Mentor surrounds himself with at any rate," he scoffed.

"That's my father," Desmond said.

"I know. I'm sorry," he added and that seemed so odd to Desmond but he couldn't really place what was so weird.

"Why do you want to come? You're kinda old don't you think?"

"My own reasons. My entire life has been dedicated to protecting all the people in the world from corruption and destruction. I'm tired of being impotent."

"You realize it's a suicide mission right?"

"I do. All Assassins are prepared to die for their cause."

Desmond rubbed his mouth. "I dunno, John. No offense but, you're old," he apologized.

"So are our generals," John said. "Doesn't stop them."

Desmond paused a moment to determine if John knew or if he was fishing. After looking in his eyes Desmond knew John knew. "Who told you?"

"No one. I was there at the plantations. I watched Altair go down at the hands of Cain. You don't walk away from a broken neck without something fantastic wrong with you. Wasn't too hard to figure out after that. They talk about the past like the present and the future like it'll never come. I put two and two together. Wasn't too hard, I got a thing for puzzles."

Desmond was grinning a little. "Me too," he admitted and he saw John almost seem to say 'I know'. "I dunno John," Desmond admitted.

"I'm more experienced in leading people than most of your officers," he said. "Please. Let me help."

Desmond frowned, but not in a bad way. "Okay. You're in. None of the other volunteers sought me out. How'd you even find me?"

"You're like the only yellow thing in this entire place. Wasn't that hard," John said.

"I see," Desmond said slowly. "We'll talk again John. I still need to make decisions on who else to bring along."

"Yes. Of course, sir. I'll wait for you to call." John saw himself out. Well that was kinda weird. Not in a bad way perhaps, but still kinda weird. Desmond went back to the dossiers.

—

Two days later Desmond was waiting for the people he'd selected for the suicide mission. He'd chosen forty-five of the three hundred volunteers. Twenty three humans and twenty two proeathans. He was waiting in one of the big training rooms of Demeter.

The first person came in. It wasn't who he expected. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to volunteer," Lucy said. She had her short hair held back by a headband and wore comfortable clothes that were sort of skin tight. Desmond could see her muscles through the material and Desmond thought she looked pretty hot.

"I'm not taking any," he said.

"Too bad. Here I am," she said

"This isn't a game," he said.

"I know. I am very aware this isn't a game. But I've got about two years left to live and I'll be damned if I let you tell me I can't try and save my world."

Desmond looked at her helplessly. "You're probably going to die."

"Then I'll die fighting and not waiting around hoping its painless. Also, these people probably know me. I'm their 'Angel of the Lake'. They don't know you, but they'll follow me into hell."

Desmond frowned deeply at her. "Okay," he sighed. She smiled brightly at him. "This doesn't change anything about us," he added.

"Good. I hope it wouldn't. I just am tired of being reactive and am ready to be proactive in this war."

"Okay."

"Don't look so upset you get to fight with a cute girl Desmond," she teased.

"Jake isn't secretly coming too is he?" he asked.

"No. Not that he didn't want to when I told him I was. Altair told him absolutely not, or something."

"Being his usual controlling self," Altair sighed.

"I think it was more that Altair didn't want Jake to undermine your authority. The troops know him too. They would have questioned you had he been here."

"So he's not here for my benefit. That's a first," Desmond said, brows going up a little. "And won't you undermine my authority?"

"I'm not here to lead. I want you to treat me like anyone else. No special treatment. Got it?"

"Perfect. Cause I has no intention of giving you any special treatment Stillman." Lucy smiled at that. "Go sit over there. That's where I'm having everyone meet," he motioned. She obediently went and sat in one of the collections of chairs Desmond had set up.

They waited and slowly people started to trickle in. First just a few and then groups of them until all forty-five were there. Well, forty six now. He'd wanted only forty-four, so with him they were forty five. Now they were forty seven. What a weird fucking number.

"Hello everyone," Desmond said once they were all here. "I'm Desmond, the commander and leader for this mission. You will refer to me as 'sir' or stadalla while you're here. I know Ezio or Od has told you the short of this mission. That its probably suicide. It is. But you volunteered anyway. For that you have mine, and everyone else's on this ark's, gratitude. Bravery like what you all displayed can't be bought or trained.

"Our goal in this mission is this atoll in the middle of the Pacific." One of the AI, he didn't know who, pulled up the map and video footage from the scout side by side. "As you can see its crawling with Adjectevs. Our mission takes us there and right into the thick of it. We're after a construct located under the atoll. This is a rough representation of the construct." The valued wireframe of the construct appeared next to the map and video in midair. "If any of you are having reservations now that you see the full scope of what we're up against I don't be upset if you leave.

"It is very likely some or most of you will die. I want you to know that. Of course I'd love nothing more than all of you to make it through the reality is that that isn't going to happen. If you want to leave, do so now."

Desmond waited. No one got up. "Okay," he said. "From this point on there is no backing out. We're in this together.

"Now, by a show of hands, who here knows anyone else here?" A few of them raised their hands. "Now I want you to look to your left and your right. The person sitting next to you is probably a stranger. Before we leave for this mission they're going to be like your brothers and sisters and you'll know them as well as the brothers and sisters I’m sure some of you have lost." There were many faults of the Assassins. One of them was not making people feel like part of a family. Even though Desmond had hated it at the Farm he'd known everyone and felt comfortable with them, like he could talk to them. The few kids were his friends and all the adults like aunts and uncles.

"I've read your dossiers. I know, vaguely, what you are all capable of. But now we're going to see, for real, what you can do and how you work as a unit. All of us will be working together. If anyone isn't pulling their weight I'll know. Now," Demeter retracted their chairs and everyone was forced to stand. "This is Demeter's favorite garden," the wall was pulled back like a curtain and revealed a huge field of grass. "Pretty huh?" There were a few agreeing noises. "I brought someone to help you guys warm up and keep an eye on you." Pluto and Artemis appeared. They both wore military body armor, their hair pulled back away from their faces.

"Hi," Artemis waved at them. The Ilythians seemed wary but the humans didn't. The AI were nothing but friendly and nice to them up to this point. "I'm Artemis. This is Pluto. Desmond's asked us to start your training. I'm going to start you off easy before I let Pluto get you. We're just going to do stretches. So everyone come out to the field." Artemis turned and walked out into the field. Everyone followed. Desmond picked up the rear. He was just observing now. Artemis and Pluto would handle the first day of training. Desmond wanted to see what these people were made of, how hard he could push before they cracked.

Artemis took them through a warm up and stretching routine. Doing it with them with a smile on her face. They were all in great shape and flexible. None of them had any problems with that, but Desmond expected that.

After a good half hour of warming up Pluto came forward. "On the other side of this garden is an obstacle course. You are going to run across that garden and complete the obstacle course."

"Remember. You're a team," Desmond said before they started. "These people are your new best friends."

"Those who fail to complete the course will be required to run laps," Pluto said unsympathetically.

"How many laps?" someone asked.

"However many I decide," Pluto said. "Any questions?" No one did. “Good. Go!” he barked. Everyone took off. The Ilythians quickly outpaced most of the humans. Desmond jogged behind. “Too bad about them,” Pluto said, casually floating next to him.

“They’ll get it,” Desmond said. 

“Not this time. Ah, I love making people run laps. Reminds me of when I was a sergeant,” Pluto said merrily and floated further ahead. 

Desmond met up with the platoon while they were in the middle of the obstacle course. Some of the Ilythians had trouble here since they were taller and the course had been designed with human height in mind so they wouldn’t needlessly struggle. A few humans overtook the Ilythians and that boosted the other humans. Soon most of the humans were ahead of the Ilythians. Desmond sighed and put his chin on his palm, holding onto the arm by the elbow. This wasn’t going to do.

About half way he, as sort of expected, saw John lagging behind. John was a grandpa, no shit he was probably tired from this. Great shape he might have been in he was still old. He failed a vault and then just stood there looking at it like it was its fault he’d just messed up. He’d been way ahead too which was a shame. Younger people quickly overtook him, jumping three feet to grab the top of the wall and yank themselves up.

The only person who stopped was Lucy. He couldn’t hear what they said from here but they did talk. John nodded and then quite easily picked Lucy up to help her reach the top of the wall. She then hung over the side and held her hand out. John took it and she helped pull him up. John finished the wall like that.

He saw another pair further along. Two Ilythians who were staring at a platform that was uneven. You had to have good balance or quick movements to get across it. A bunch of people made it to the platform and just fell off, not expecting that it’d dump them. Artemis was in the pit it dropped them in with some encouraging words and showing them to the ladder where they could try again. Other people just sprinted across the very middle.

Then the two Ilythian moved at the same time, perfectly in sync and with sure steps walked across the platform. On the other side they fist bumped and continued on. Desmond smiled at that. Seemed they all didn’t fail.

“Pluto,” Desmond said. The ex-general was there instantly.

“Yes?”

“Who were those two Ilythians?”

“Mmm, Baldur and Thor I believe.”

“Siblings?”

“No. Why?”

Desmond chuckled, “In norse mythos, that seems to be based off the Ilythians, Baldur and Thor were siblings. Thor the god of thunder, Baldur was god of peace. Those two aren’t related?”

“No,” Pluto said.

“That the same Baldur I fought the other day? The dossiers didn’t have pictures.”

“Yes.”

“Ah, good. I liked her. Her, Thor, Lucy, and John are the only ones who passed. Everyone else failed this.”

“I saw,” Pluto agreed.

“That’s all,” Desmond said. He was standing at the end of the obstacle course. His platoon was gathering as they completed it, most were out of breath and bent over their knees.

Pluto waited until everyone had finished before appearing next to Desmond. “That was awful,” Pluto said.

“B-but we completed the co-course,” someone panted.

“Yes. But you all failed. Everyone except Vizün, Sabbr, Stillman, and Smith will run six laps around the garden. Vizün, Sabbr, Stillman, Smith, you may rest while your fellows run.”

“What! How did we fail and they didn’t? We completed the course just the same as them,” someone complained. They were a man about Desmond’s age with a buzzed head and an angry face. He could have been handsome.

“Because they’re the only ones who took what I said and went through with it,” Desmond said. “I told you. These people are your family now. Ilythian, human, you’re brothers and sisters now. Instead of acting like you Ilythians ran ahead of the humans, leaving them behind. None of you helped each other when another struggled. Except in two instances did I see teamwork. Stillman stopped to help Smith when he struggled with the wall and Vizün and Sabbr completed the unstable platform by working together.”

“So Stillman gets out of this cause he helped an old man who couldn’t even complete the course himself?” they continued.

Desmond remained calm, “What’s your name again, son?”

“Jackson Johnson, sir,” he said. Desmond cleared his throat so he didn’t laugh. His parents hated him. That was the only explanation. The guy had a pre-made porn name.

“Stillman, Smith, would you like to say something to Johnson here?”

“I would, sir,” Lucy said. Everyone turned and Johnson turned dead white. He knew who she was. A few people were surprised to see her and some looked worried but all of them were in awe. “Fucking bite me.”

“And watch your manners. I’m old, but not too old I can’t throw you over my knee,” John said. That made a few people laugh.

“Next time I’ll help you. Then you can get your ass beat by my boyfriend and helped by me,” Lucy sneered. Desmond wanted to know the story behind that one. Johnson went from white to bright red in humiliation.

“Enough,” Desmond said. “All of you except the four mentioned are doing laps. Now go. The sooner you finish the sooner we can move on to something you can’t cheat.” The platoon moved off as a group. “Don’t forget this time!” Desmond called after them. “Keep an eye on them Artemis.”

“Yessir!” she said enthusiastically and bounded after them like a deer.

Desmond turned to the four remaining. “We wouldn’t have failed even if we hadn’t made it,” Thor said.

“No,” Desmond said. “This was a test to see how well you worked together. They all failed. You two weren’t much better,” he gave Thor and Baldur a look. “Running ahead with the others.”

“We’ll do better next time, _stadalla_ , promise,” Baldur said.

“I hope so.”

“Well, I’m glad to rest,” John said. “Maybe you were right, I’m too old,” he huffed and sat.

“You did fine,” Desmond said. “I know men older than you who can do that course just fine.”

“Yeaaaah but I’m not them,” John smiled and Desmond felt weird deja vu. He couldn’t place why and it bothered him. “Thanks for helping me, young lady,” he added to Lucy.

“My pleasure. I hate running,” she grimaced and sat next to him. John chuckled. “What are we doing after they finish their run, sir?” she asked.

“Well because you’re all _sooo_ good at making friends, we’re going to do ice breakers.”

“Uhg! Seriously. I hated those in college.”

“Well we wouldn’t have to if you could work together!” Desmond said. Lucy and Baldur both giggled.

“They’ll figure it out,” Pluto said, not present except for voice.

“I hope so. I hate ice breakers too,” Desmond said.

“What’s an ice breaker?” Baldur asked.

“You’ll see,” Desmond promised.

“By the Angel’s face I don’t think I want to,” she said slowly.

“Well you will anyway,” Desmond said. Baldur grimaced and she and Thor traded worried looks. Desmond sat on the grass with Lucy and John and the Ilythians followed suit while they waited for everyone else to finish their laps.


	51. Flowerpecker

Desmond watched his men disapprovingly. Getting humans and proeathans to work together wasn’t as bad as teaching cats to play fetch but it was pretty close. Even though these proeathans were about as open minded as Od could find and Desmond had approved they still looked down on the humans and the humans hated the proeathans for destroying their world. A verbal fight broke out at least once a day. After a week Desmond had had quite enough of the entire thing.

He was sitting in front of his men, looking pensive. They waited at parade rest for him to tell them to be at ease or give instruction. He’d just showed up today and they’d done this, as they did every day now. He’d sat down and let them stew.

“You’re all useless,” he said after a while. “Even the ones I like. You’re all fucking useless.”

“Desmond, don’t be so mean,” Artemis said.

Desmond grunted as he got to his feet. “Rodriguez,” he said to one of the humans, a big Mexican with black eyes and a charming smile when he felt like smiling. “Why are you so so fucking useless?” he meant it in reference to the entire platoon, not just him. It was partially rhetorical but he also wanted to see what the man would say. Rodriguez wasn’t a good talker though and didn’t have an answer for him. “Johnson,” he turned his attention to the problematic dick in his platoon who always had a smart comment. “I can see you wanting to answer. Get it over with and spit it out.”

“Because humans and proeathans don’t work together,” he sneered.

“Partial points. Fel,” he turned to one of the Ilythians. “Why the hell do you all suck _so_ much?”

“Humans have difficulty keeping up with us-

“Wrong answer. Sabbr,” he asked Baldur.

“Because we don’t want to,” she said.

“Wow. A smart answer at last. Amazing. Only took you all four shots,” he rolled his eyes at them. “Fact is. You all suck because you want to suck. And if you suck then you’re worthless to me. I’m honestly about to just throw in the towel and start with new volunteers. Johnson, you say humans can’t work with proeathans; Fel, that humans can’t keep up. Both wrong as fuck answers. I trained with _etji_ a _ð_ master Magni and learned and kept up with him and even kicked his ass once or twice. For the humans in the group, imagine I got personally trained by Jet Lee and then had the honor of beating him once.

“You all suck because you want to suck. And right now you’re doing no one a favor, especially your own species. I don’t want to hear this bullshit of ‘humans aren’t as good’, ‘we can’t work together’, ‘proeathans are shitty’, ‘humans can’t keep up.’ Its an excuse. A shitty excuse and I’m tired of it. We’re running _out_ of time. The growing and harvest season for the Adjatevs is going to be over soon and we have until then to make something out of you.

“Instead you’re all here fighting with each other. Bullshit. Get the fuck over yourselves. All of you. Right now you’re all fucking useless and hurting our cause and might be the reason the Adjatevs _win_ in the end.

“You’re all dismissed. I don’t want to see another fucking one of you until you’ve decided you can not be worthless to me. Cause right now you’re all worthless and weak.” He ran his hand through his short hair and stepped back and away. “Go think about it. I’ll be here tomorrow,” and he walked off. He heard them talking in hushed voices as he did so but Desmond didn’t have time for them today. He had his own plans now. He was basically their baby sitter and he couldn’t do that. He needed soldiers who’d act like it. He couldn’t hold their hands till they got over their prejudices.

He left the grass garden and headed for Venus. “Was that necessary? You were so mean,” Artemis said.

“I don’t have the luxury of kindness,” Desmond said. “I have a war to win and a limited time table. They’re slowing us down.”

“You could have been nicer,” she said.

“I thought it was a good speech,” Pluto put in as he got to the lift. He got in one on his own and turned to see people leaving the garden. “Reminds me of myself.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“I was the greatest general in a hundred generations,” Pluto said. “And led the Unified Army of proeathans against the human rebellion.”

“And yet you lost,” Desmond said.

“I didn’t lose. I was murdered and forced here.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Artemis whined.

“I say it like it is. We were all murdered. I just have the misfortune of knowing who and what I was. I know everything except my own name.”

“You don’t know Artemis?” Desmond asked.

“Some of us prefer not to know when we learned of the nature of our fate,” she admitted. “I don’t want to know what I lost. I’m not unhappy now and knowledge is a burden.”

“Cain says the same thing.”

“Cain can be wise,” Pluto said.

“When he wants to be,” Mercury cut in. “He’s still a stupid hybrid who only understands proeathans on a base level and acts like he knows fucking everything. Not to mention he’s one of those fucking Drell,” he growled.

“You don’t like Drell?” Desmond asked.

“Mercury had a Lesh’va’rin mother. They and the Drell were at war constantly even while we fought against the humans,” Pluto said. 

“So I take it he remembers?” Desmond asked.

“Mhm.”

“I thought the Adjatevs only took from their own people,” Desmond said.

“Yeah well when they had someone like me in the world they couldn’t _help_ themselves,” Mercury said and he could imagine his child-like visage sneering. “I used to be a great psychic you know. One of the best! Then they kidnapped me, killed me, and made me into… this.”

“And yet you decide to look like your younger self,” Morpheus said in his echoey tone. “And not the _‘great’_ psychic you used to be.”

“Fuck off star boy. You weren’t even useful. Still aren’t.”

“Stop,” Desmond said and they all fell silent. “Do not fight amid each other. Bad enough my men fight between each other.”

“They’re just bitter,” Venus said in Altair’s voice. The lift door opened and Desmond went to his seldom used room.

“No shit I am. What they did to us- Its disgusting.”

“Humiliating,” Demeter agreed in her lofty voice.

Desmond opened the door of his room. The AI partaking in the conversation all took a visual form at once. He liked to look at them when they spoke but talking to them in the hallway could get awkward since he was supposed to be no one in the ark. No ones didn’t have face to face conversations with the ark holograms. Half of them wore battle armor, their hair pushed back or ‘cut’ short, the other half in their version of a uniform, though none of them wore shoes. Venus wore Altair’s face of the first time Desmond had seen him die and it tingled his brain in a way he didn’t like. She was doing it on purpose and he didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t comment on it though. He’d scold her later in private for it.

“Humiliating?” Desmond asked and sat on the comfortable chair, taking off his boots. He’d had another restless night and Rebecca had taken apart part of the Animus to upgrade it. No sleeping there and the meditation was a poor substitute for real sleep when you had such an active mind as Desmond’s.

“Oh yes. Turning us into AI. Disgraceful,” Demeter said and none of the AI would meet his eyes.

“I thought it was an honor,” Desmond said.

“So we were assured,” Pluto said.

“But they did to us what they did to-

“Did to who?” Desmond asked but had a sneaking suspicion about what Mercury was about to say.

“The angels of long ago,” Venus said. “Its the same idea. Rip the mind and the soul out of a body and put it within a vessel.”

“You didn’t notice that our cores looked similar to Apples?” Morpheus asked, materializing beside him wearing a cloak of stars and space.

“I mean… no? I was kinda busy trying not to die most of that trek,” he reminded them. “And dealing with the Ilythians.”

“The AI cores are larger, more advanced, versions of the vessels they would use to contain the soul of an angel,” Demeter said.

Desmond blinked, “Why would they do that? I’m pretty sure you’ve told me putting a proeathan into a vessel was like… fifty types of illegal.”

“The species was dying. Who would care if sixteen of us just disappeared,” Hera finally joined the conversation and she was as spooky looking as always with her faceless mask and her deep red robes. She stood right in front of Desmond. “They committed heresy and wiped our memories so we wouldn’t remember. Before us our AI were just that, artificial.”

“You look at us as machines,” Demeter said.

“But we are not,” Mercury said.

“We are the captured souls of the dead,” Hera said.

Desmond looked up at them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I also don’t have a lot of sympathy.” They shrunk away from him somewhat. “There were a thousand Apples in Venus alone. A thousand. That doesn’t include the other vessels. It sucks they did this to you but, can’t say I’m that surprised it happened either. Your people had been locking up human souls for… how long?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

There was an uncomfortable silence. “Since we discovered a way to separate the soul from the body,” Morpheus admitted. “A few thousand years after humans made themselves known.”

“And how many did you do this to?” Again, not a rhetorical question.

“We only did it with particularly powerful angels at first-

“That wasn’t the question,” Desmond snapped at Pluto. “How. Many.”

“Only a few hundred a proeathan lifetime. We told them they could live forever,” Hera was practically whispering. “Early on, when we could control them, they embraced it. It was an honor to become a vessel. Then the Swell came and destroyed that notion for them. Showed them that it was death and imprisonment. It dropped off after that some.”

“Its more difficult to separate those who resist and struggle,” Morpheus said.

“During the initial part of the Decline it was possibly thousands,” Hera said softly. “Official records were destroyed when we went underground. During the Rise of Saturn it could have numbered in the tens of thousands. Most of all of the vessels in the world were destroyed during that war and in the war with Eve. The only ones that remain are the few scattered across the globe and those located within Venus.”

“But that’s it,” Desmond said, cooling a furious ember in his chest that was so hot it felt like it was about to burn itself right out of his ribs. “Your people stole the souls of, possibly, _hundreds_ of thousands of humans and put them into a ball to serve until the end of time. And you’re going to complain that you’re humiliated because the Adjatevs treated you the same way you probably all treated us.”

“You say we deserved this?”

“I’m saying I think you need to suck it the fuck up,” Desmond snapped. “Your society was out of control and you’re the product of it running off the rails. I’ve seen the Adjatevs. They’re _proud_ of what they did. Even the ones that are just normal people in their nation. There’s no guilt for them. But in the end, you were all so fucking _proud_ of what you’d become. Such hubris comes before the fall.”

“Would you say the same for your own kind?” Venus asked meanly.

“Fuck yeah,” Desmond said and got to his feet, his previous desire to rest gone. Now he was angry and thinking and moving. “I’ve seen it all. Or most of it. A big part of it at least,” he admitted. “And there are people older than me telling me shit I’ve missed, and you, and Od, and Mars in Apollo. And just… I think everything is happening for a reason. Like. When proeathans had too much hubris it sort of sounds like a _stadalla_ shows up to wreck their shit. That sound about right?”

They all looked at Hera who seemed slightly uncomfortable. “That is not an unfair summation,” she admitted.

“Well humans had a ton of hubris too. Then… a _stadalla_ showed up and wrecked their shit.” Artemis giggled. “Wow. Never saw that before,” he admitted. “Point is. You did horrible things. You, as a species I mean. Like the worst things people can do to each other and you didn’t care. You just… didn’t care. And I’m what? Seventeen. You didn’t care sixteen times before now and every time you’ve been reminded of your hubris until we got fed up with it and destroyed you.

“Modern humans are a lot like you, you know. Ton of arrogance and willful ignorance. They didn’t want to look at what was going around them, what or who they were hurting by being absolute pieces of shit, and change it. They did horrible things to each other and our planet. Like before you guys came back we were literally choking the planet and ourselves.

“Then I came along,” he frowned, feeling that ember like a sun. The bullshit and injustice of this nearly making his ears ring. “A _stadalla_ bred to bring about the end of human hubris by literally the biggest egotistical pricks the world has ever known; the Adjatevs.

“And they made you guys. Which is super fucked up. Not as fucked up as nearly killing the human population twice and abandoning the world to fix itself once. But pretty fucked up. And you’re here. Moping and whining about how disrespectful and humiliating it is that you were treated like nothing. When all you’ve ever done is treat humans like nothing. Its the whole feminist argument that guys don’t want to be treated the way they treat women, which is to say; like absolute shit. 

“But you guys are such massive fucking whiny, egomaniacs,” and he got more than a few scowls. “Like your pain is so much more important than ours. News flash. Is isn’t. Literally get over yourselves.”

“You don’t-

“Understand?” Desmond asked Pluto. “Don’t understand what its like to be lied to? Used? Have no control over my body? Oh, I think I understand that perfectly. You guys are as bad as my proeathan soldiers. You listen when you want but you don’t care about us.”

“That’s not true,” Artemis said.

“It is,” Desmond said. “None of you care about what happens in this ark, this army, the people here, the survival of the human race. All you care about is that you win. You’re _just_ like those that made you.”

“Some of us still follow part of our coding,” Venus said.

“Shut up,” Desmond said. She scowled with Altair’s face. “You do on your own free will and you know it. Most of you aren’t helpful even. Demeter is like the only one of you who actually cares if any of us live or die and I think that’s mostly because if we all died in here we’d make a mess of the place.

“You’re all just… useless to me,” he said. “You whine and complain and scheme but you’re not doing shit.”

“Me and Pluto are helping,” Artemis said, but it was weak.

“Because I told you to,” Desmond sighed and rubbed his buzzed head. “Why’s everyone who wants to help me literally the most useless people in existence?” he asked both himself and them. This time the question was rhetorical. “I’m just your vehicle for revenge.”

“You’re also our master,” Morpheus put in.

“I’m no one’s master. You are here because you chose to be. Now you’re all choosing to do fucking _nothing_. That’s the real disgusting and humiliating parts about you all. You do fucking nothing.” He wrinkled his nose at them. “Fuck, so tired of looking at all of you with your slack-jawed stares. Get out. Don’t bother me unless you’re useful.” They all vanished.

After a moment Demeter said, very softly, like a whisper in his ear. “I recorded that in case you want to listen to is again and give a revised version of it to your troops. It was much better than the one you gave them earlier.”

Desmond smiled helplessly and gave a little, quiet, laugh. “Thank you Demeter. Not right now. I’ll review it later.”

“Very well. After you’ve had some rest yes?” Desmond nodded and Demeter’s presence dissipated.

 


	52. From the Peak

Desmond usually are alone. He got his food from the cafeteria style kitchen and sat alone and ate his lunch. The others didn't bother him unless he bothered them. They always drew the eyes of everyone there and Desmond was still inconspicuous in the ark. No one knew him or that he was anyone but a guy. He wore his hood down when he ate but kept his gloves on. The person behind the counter had given him funny looks for the first few days but not anymore. They all knew the weird guy who dressed head to toe in black like a hijabi, barely even showing his face half the time.

Desmond ate lunch in peace for a while before someone came and sat across from him. He ignored them for a bit. If it was one of the others they'd start talking eventually. They didn't. They just started to eat.

After several minutes of a comfortable silence broken only by the sound of their cutlery, Desmond looked up. He nearly threw his plate at his father out of principle but managed to restrain himself. "What are you doing here?" Desmond growled.

"Having lunch. Is it not obvious?" Andrew asked. "Going to condemn an old man his eating now?"

Desmond's body vibrated a little and he took a breath. They weren't fighting. There was no need for such a flight or fight response. He calmed down and didn't feel like he needed to set someone on fire. "I like eating alone," Desmond said.

"Well you can deal with having a meal with your old man. Might be the last one," he said with no sarcasm. It was, unfortunately, a shot right to Desmond's heart. "We haven't eaten together in... Fifteen years? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Desmond said quietly.

"Seventeen. I think we're due. For one without any yelling."

"I'll yell if I fucking want," Desmond said but he sounded bratty even to his own ears.

"Yes. Of course," Andrew said, mildly, sounding amused. Not in a condescending way though. "Jackson told me you told everyone they were worthless."

"How do you know Jackson?"

"He's an Assassin of course."

"One of your replacement sons?" Desmond said it to hurt and he did see Andrew wince a little.

"No," he said calmly. "He's from the compound in Idaho. Very skilled young man. Violent though. He had his uses, but he's only good so long as you know how to direct that sharp bite of his."

Desmond hesitated. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know he doesn't respect you. Many of those in your little suicide squad don't. Today he said you'd given up. Didn't sound very accurate," Andrew said and took a bite of his lunch. Desmond was just sitting there, staring at him. "Gave them an ultimatum. Ultimatums don't work."

"You'd know."

"I would. I gave Lucy one. Didn't work out for her. People will always choose what's important to them over an order any day. An ultimatum is a failure on the leader's part though. Failure to provide proper importance. It's why moles go native. You fail to make what they left more important than the contacts they make outside. The Assassins have had a particularly bad job at this," he admitted with a sigh.

"Jackson going to be back tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm making him and the other Assassins go back. I kept them together this long, I won't see them fall apart because of you."

"If they would just-

"You need to inspire loyalty," Andrew talked right over him. Normally when he did that it infuriated Desmond. Today it didn't. It was, bizarrely, similar to how Cain would talk to him so he didn't balk like he normally did. "Right now they're there because the others told them you were going to attack the proeathans and help the war. But you're just a vehicle for their own desires. Revenge, loyalty to another, desire to make a difference in this war. But they don't respect anything you say. You might think whatever you want about me but I am _very_ good at inspiring loyalty in others. You don't become Mentor without earning the respect of those under you and building a solid foundation on which to base your platform to lead."

Desmond just sat there. He didn't argue. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and after having to work with Cain and his ancestors he knew that the things that hurt to hear were often the right things. He didn't like hearing what Andrew was saying, but he also wasn't exactly wrong. The whole situation was weird though. "Why are you telling me this? Why do you care what I'm doing?"

"Don't be insensitive, Desmond. You're my son, my only son. You think I don't care?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

Andrew sighed and ran a hand through his mostly grey hair. "I know I wasn't the best father to you. Certainly not what you deserved-

"You think?" Desmond asked sarcastically.

"And I'm not always the easiest man to get along with but you need to understand something. For someone like me... An outsider," saying it pained him. It was why he'd taken the Miles name. Desmond didn't even know what Andrew's name had been before his mother. "The Assassins are torturous. Literally. Before I was accepted I had to pass a test where I was kidnapped by 'Templars' and interrogated like they would interrogate us. I had no idea at the time and was terrified. It's to test your loyalty before they let you close. I passed but if nothing else it scared me too much to talk if I ever talked and the Assassins found out. They are not kind to traitors.

"I'm not using that as an excuse," he continued, his manner subdued and Desmond's eyes were glued to his father. He never knew that. "But it's made me what I am, just as all life experiences make you what you are. I'm afraid it made me a very mean man," he sighed, hands drooping as they held his cutlery. "And I regret it did so. The past is so easy to change isn't it? All you have to say is that you'd have done it different. I've done it different a thousand ways with you, with Duncan, Kaley ever since you left. It's so easy to see your faults from the future."

"The past can't be changed," Desmond said.

"No," Andrew said. "I try though. After all the hundreds of thousands of people who've died, the men I've lost. What could I have done to save them? Assassins were supposed to safe keep the world and we were powerless. It helped keep _us_ safe but what good were we without the world?" He sighed a little. "I tried. God knows I tried. In the end it was for nothing. We were lost and I and a small portion of us was all that left. When we found you in Mexico it was a miracle."

"You tried to make them scan my brain and put me in an Animus," Desmond reminded him bitterly.

"You told me you'd been cloned. I was afraid..." He pulled a face, for a moment looking pained and hurt. "I was just afraid," he said like that was all he needed to be said. 

"All this heart felt shit doesn't excuse your actions. How you treated me. How you treated my brother," because he couldn't even say Duncan's name.

"I know. I have no excuses. I just..." He sighed as he said, "just wanted you to understand. "I am sorry for how you grew up," he hesitated like there was something caught in his throat. He struggled with it for several seconds before he swallowed and gave up. "I want to try to make up for that. I didn't do right by you then. Could you let me try again?"

Desmond said nothing a moment. "No," he said and then grabbed his plate. "You don't get that luxury." He stood up. "And you ruined my lunch," he walked away. As he did he heard Andrew put his hand to his face. He told himself he didn't care.

He'd been a little kid when his brother had killed himself and Andrew had been, basically, a single parent. Instead of giving Desmond the attention he'd desperately needed and wanted he'd just made himself _more_ busy. To get any of Andrew's attention you had to make him fight for it. Desmond had done so by acting out, rebelling and general acts of disobedience. That got his father to notice him, to fucking _care_. It was a sick, toxic, relationship Desmond had tried to forget for ten years. He never wanted to have to fight to earn someone's love like that. Not when they'd never love him back.

Desmond yanked his hood up after dropping his dishes off and left the cafeteria. His chest ached in a way he hated. Andrew was still his father and despite wanting to distance himself from him there was still that eight year old boy inside him who desperately wanted his father's attention. Who wanted to be valued and loved by that man. He hated that part of himself. That he still cared what Andrew wanted, still cared about what Andrew thought of him. Desmond thought he was past that.

He wasn't.

It just made him angry. Like red hot furious. Angry at himself. Every encounter with his father up till now he'd shut down before the old man had really gotten a chance to talk and he'd been able to deal with it. But listening to him now. Hearing stuff that he went through and reasons why he was a shitty parent that explained rather than excused his behavior. It just made Desmond angry at it all. Angry he felt sympathetic. Angry that the Assassins had done things like that to people just because they weren't born into it. Not angry for Andrew's sake. Angry for his own. Who knew if maybe Desmond would have been able to have an actual father. Shit maybe he could have had a semi normal family.

"Desmond." He turned around. Cain was standing there, head cocked a bit to the side like a curious dog.

He was standing in a hallway in front of a lift, the lights were flickering but were mostly off than on. He'd lost track of time and just got caught up in the hot flame of fury in his stomach. Things were just less complicated when his dad wasn't involved. Why couldn't he just leave Desmond _alone?_

"What are you doing?" Cain asked him.

"Nothing," Desmond grunted, sinking into his hood.

"Don't even try. Altair does that. Doesn't work as well as you think," Cain said blithely.

"Fuck off Cain," he spat.

Cain stood there. "What happened?" Without asking he touched Desmond's arm and he was not in the mood to be touched. He pushed him off. "Don't be difficult kid. Just tell me what happened?"

"None of your business is what happened," Desmond scowled and called the lift again. Nothing happened. No tone to indicate it'd even registered.

"There's no power in this part of the ark," Cain said. "Demeter sent me to see what the malfunction was since she can't see. Too much static. You aren't going anywhere. You need to calm down. Whatever it is probably isn't that big of a deal."

"What would you know?" Desmond demanded. "You don't even give a fuck half the time. Acting all aloof like we all aren't dying."

"It happens when you can't die and even if I could I'd outlive you all anyway. I already did," he shrugged a little. 

"Not helping," Desmond growled and all the lights turned off, no longer even flickering. All that remained of any light were Desmond's teal markings and Cain's blue eyes.

"I would if you'd tell me what got you so upset," Cain said, patient and practiced in dealing with brats like him. Desmond couldn't help but think that he'd had plenty of experience from handling Altair when he was young. And handling who knew who else. Had Jesus been a brat too?

“Andrew. It was my dad, alright,” he growled.

“That’s all?”

Desmond glared at him. “That- _that’s_ all?” Desmond asked. “Do you not know what they guy did to me? That he almost got me killed?”

“You’ve almost gotten yourself killed plenty of times. Wanted to kill yourself too,” Cain said.

“Yeah but that’s me. My fucking father shouldn’t want to put his only son in needly danger for nothing. Literally nothing. For a fucking Apple,” he nearly gagged. Just thinking about them made him angry too and for all the right reasons. Just the disgusting disgrace the proeathans inflicted on humans for thousands of years unending. All because they _could_ and never thinking for a moment if they should.

“What’d he say to you that got you so upset?” Desmond wanted to rebel and not tell Cain. In the end, he did. He also told Cain about what he’d said to his AI, and his platoon. Cain was leaning against the wall, listening, while Desmond talked. “I know you don’t want to hear this but he’s right in some ways.”

“You’re right! I didn’t!”

“Calm down. No need to yell at me. You aren’t mad at me, you’re mad at yourself. All the failures of those around you are failures of yourself and you know it,” Desmond glowered but didn’t argue. “You don’t know _how_ to lead. Its okay. Joan d’Arc didn’t know either.”

“Please don’t tell me you gave her lessons,” Desmond said.

“Lets just say, she didn’t actually hear the Archangel Micheal,” Cain said with a coy smile Desmond could see because his eyes had switched into dark vision without him realizing it. “Very upsetting to everyone she died so young though,” he frowned then. “She was such a nice young girl. Pretty sure she was in love with me,” he trailed off a bit. “Anyway,” he waved away Desmond’s aghast stare. “Six hundred years ago, not important. Far too young for my tastes anyway.”

“Gross,” Desmond said.

“Back in the day she was too old for a lot of men if that’d make it better.”

“Extra gross,” Desmond said dryly and Cain chuckled.

“My _point_ was that she didn’t know what she was doing either. She learned though. You’ll learn too. So far you’ve done a shit job at it. What your father said, its actually not bad advice.”

“You’re supposed to me on my side here,” Desmond growled.

“I don’t have a side. I don’t even have to be there. I have what I want from the Adjatevs and your side twice over. Far as I’m concerned I’ve won this war. I could just go out into the wilderness and you’d never find me and I’d live out there until you’d all just torn each other apart and it’d died down. Whatever was left would be so degraded from the humanity we know in both proeathans and humans they probably _would_ worship me as a god.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Desmond sneered.

“No,” Cain grinned. “It wouldn’t. Probably not the last either.”

“Then what _should_ I do?”

“Lets start by letting the lights come back, eh?”

“I like it dark.”

“You aren’t Batman, turn the lights on.”

“How do you know about Batman?”

“I’ve been reading,” Cain said with a grin. “So lets stop with the super hero level melodrama. It could be much worse.”

“Yeah. How?”

“I really could have betrayed you in Apollo and you’d still be in that pod and you’d never come out. At least not as you are. Not until the Adjatevs had stripped every part of _you_ out of you and made you something else like Warren did to Daniel. Now calm down and control yourself. Its unbecoming for the savior of the world to be having a temper tantrum because his daddy was mean to him.”

“I should fucking punch you.”

“You still have that free shot from Apollo,” Cain said mildly. “But you don’t really want to do that.”

Desmond huffed and closed his eyes. He calmed himself and the glowing receded, power returned to that part of Demeter. “Oh. Desmond, is everything all right?” Demeter asked. “I thought we discussed you keeping a cool head while you were here? I cannot lose access to parts of my ark.”

“It got away from me,” Desmond said, locking the fire and anger away deep inside himself. He was calm now like he’d never been furious. He could still feel the inferno inside him, but it was a controlled fire now. “Sorry.”

“Its alright. Now I can see if anything happened while systems were off,” Demeter said and Desmond felt her fade.

“Now,” Cain stepped forward and when he put his hand on Desmond’s shoulder Desmond didn’t yank away, “your problem.”

“Which one? I have more than I can count.”

“The fact that your men don’t respect you. They have no reason to. You’ve proved nothing to them. You want them to follow you into hell, you have to go into hell for them.”

“How do I do that? I don’t have _time_ for that either. I only have a few weeks and every day I’m losing time.”

“Then fake it. Put something they care about in danger. Then take it out of danger. Show them you’re capable, worthy of being followed. Joan did that a few times. No one wanted to listen to her, they did in the end. For a while at least. Men tend to get in a woman’s way though,” he rolled his eyes at that.

“How do I do that? I can’t do this with each person?”

“Well for the humans it’d be easy. Put Lucy in danger-

“Absolutely not,” Desmond said.

“Why not? She’s already been in serious life threatening situations, without you around I might add, and come out unscathed. A fake situation wouldn’t damage her.”

“She’s not— she’s not a fucking _trophy_ ,” Desmond growled. “Or a thing I can just ask that of. She hates being known as the Angel of the Lake-

“Yet she will be known that far after she’s dead,” Cain said. “Names like that don’t go away. They linger like an old wound, acting up when the weather is bad. Whatever’s left of the humans here after Atlantis will tell stories of the Angel for generations. It will become myth, legend, religion. I’ve seen it before. Siddhartha was just a man but he became more than that. So did Jesus, even Arthur became more.”

“You know. You really have to stop with the historical figures references. It freaks me out.”

“Get used to it. Point being nothing you do or anything she does will change the fact that in as little as three generations she will be a figure of myth, a saint or a demi god or a god in its own right. There is no controlling people when hope is presented to them. Lucy is a hope that something, somewhere, is out there, bigger than them, and looking out for them.”

“That’s it then,” Desmond said.

“What’s it?”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he said.

“What?” Cain frowned at him in confusion.

“They’ll follow Lucy into hell,” he said. “Even the proeathans respect her for what she’s done with the plantations. I just have to show them some hell. They want an Angel. Fine. Then I’ll be the Devil.”

Cain looked at him with a strange expression. “Not the route I’d thought you’d go. But interesting.”

“I figured you’d approve. You like the world to be balanced. Hope should always be balanced with desperation.”

“Heh. I guess.”

“Thanks. I need to go talk to Lucy now,” Desmond called the lift and the doors opened immediately. It’d been waiting there for him since he’d shut this part of the ark down.

“She’s in the nursery I believe,” Cain said, letting him go.

“Thanks,” Desmond said again and got onto the lift.

“Tell her it was my idea, that way she doesn’t call you the biggest idiot she’s ever seen,” Cain said with a grin.

“I will,” Desmond grinned back a bit. “You can afford to be the scapegoat this time,” and then the doors closed as Desmond dialed in the coordinates for the nursery.


	53. Eagle Eye

Lucy was in the middle of braiding a little girl's hair when Desmond found her and told her his plan. She stopped and looked up at him. "Are you Bleeding or something?" she asked him.

"What? No. I'm fine," Desmond said. He hadn't had a Bleeding episode since he'd woken up in Nike a year ago and after he'd returned from Apollo the feeling of Altair and Ezio's influence was even more distant than ever.

"Because that is an insane idea," she said.

"No it isn't," and he finally sat across from her. There were a group of girls sitting around Lucy who all wanted her to do their hair. "And it was Cain's idea," he added.

"No it wasn't," she said giving him a look. "Because Cain doesn't come up with stupid ideas like that. He's too smart for that."

"It isn't a bad idea," Desmond said.

"I'm not leading your mission. Not to mention, how would that even work? They all know you."

"Ah see, I'd start over. Scrap these guys except for a few who I'd keep on because they're actually good. The rest are scrubs."

"They're the best we have-

"No they're the best who _volunteered_. There are others."

"So... What? You'd draft people?"

"In a way," Desmond said. "More like I'd say that the Angel of the Lake had called on them for a special mission."

"You wouldn't," Lucy said sternly.

"Why not?"

"That's immoral for starters! Ah, girls I'm sorry but I need to talk with Desmond," and she got up.

"Awww, but Miss Lucy," one complained.

"I'll come back in a few minutes," Lucy promised and gently stroked her head. Desmond didn't miss the slight wistful look in her eyes. She had only a few years left. She'd never have a child. She wasn't selfish enough for that. "You," she pointed at Desmond, "over here." Desmond unfolded and followed her away from the children to the doorway. "I'm not some... Some goddess or whatever!" she cried.

"I know that," Desmond said. "Cain says it doesn't matter. You'll be remembered as one. The people here, they love you. You give them hope. They'd follow you anywhere."

"I know... I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "I can't let you use that to manipulate people like that."

"Lucy," he said patiently. "This is an actual, good, fucking plan. Like the only good plan I've ever had in this entire time."

"You're going to put innocent people in danger who want nothing to do with the front," Lucy said.

"I'm making sure we don't face annihilation," he said seriously. "If I don't do _something_ and get to that construct to learn what Eve did we'll be obliterated at Atlantis. Lets be honest, we never actually had a snowball’s chance in hell at Atlantis as it is. I know that. You have to know that. You know that don't you?" She didn't answer right away. "Don't you?"

"Yes," she sighed. "I know. More than you I know," she couldn't meet his gaze. He supposed she would, she’d lived with proeathans for years and probably paraded around for this or that. Or at least she’d seen sensitive things the Adjatevs didn’t care about her seeing because she was a synthetic and temporary, replaceable.

"You going to help me? And help keep all these people safe like you've been doing all along or is that Angel shit all talk?"

"I hate you for this," she told him.

"Is that a yes?"

She didn't answer him immediately. "Yes."

"Thank you-

"One condition."

"Name it."

"Before you left for Apollo you were helping me see what else I was capable of. I want that. I want to know. I talk to Cain a lot you know. He's in here all the time he isn't bothering Altair or talking with you. Even he admits he has no idea what to do with me. I don’t- I’m not _like_ other humans. God that sounds so pretentious,” she sighed.

“How do you think I could help you when Cain couldn’t?” Desmond asked. “Like, he’s the go-to guy for ‘how do I do this thing I don’t know how to do?’ I had hit a wall with you as it was.”

“He said that you were the most powerful psychic on the planet there had been for a very _very_ long time and if anyone could help me, it’d be you. I just want to prove them wrong.”

“Who?”

“The proeathans! The Adjatevs always reminded me I was nothing special. I was just a clone. A copy of a dead girl.”

“You’re not a copy,” Desmond said.

“Exactly. I’m not. The Ilythians don’t think I have ‘abilities’. A synth can’t be psychic because they aren’t- aren’t _real_ ,” she stopped and covered her mouth looking about to either start crying or throw up. It was the first time Desmond ever wondered if Lucy hated herself for what she was. How much self doubt she must have about what and who she was and if she was _real_ enough to be a person and not just an imitation of a person.

“Hey,” he touched her arm gently. “You’re real,” he said and gave her a hug. “You’re a real fucking human being. One of the best I know. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I try,” she swallowed. He let her go. “Thanks,” she said and sniffed. She pushed the back of her hand to one eye but didn’t cry.

“If it means anything. You’ve never been anything but a real girl to me. Even when we thought you were a clone and now this synth nonsense. You’re still you. You’re not Lucy that’s for sure.”

“You think so?”

Desmond sighed and put his hands in the pocket of his jacket. “Without the Adjatevs tampering with my memory to make me love her, yeah I know for sure. Know how I know?”

“How?”

“Something no one will admit. She was scared. All the time. She was a timid rabbit ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. She wasn’t brave at all. She could pull it together when people were looking, could assume authority and talk the talk. I saw her though, when no one was looking, when she let her guard down when the others were sleeping and I couldn’t sleep. She was _so_ scared of what she was doing, of being pulled in all these directions. Of lying to these two powerful men who’d see her dead for any infraction. It terrified her and I’m surprised some nights she didn’t just run.

“You aren’t like her. You’re like, the bravest person I know. For starters you stand up to Altair, which no one does because he gets what he wants. I’ve heard what you’ve done at the plantations. Which, fyi, totally stupid Desmond level bullshit stunts,” she laughed a little. “But also so freaking brave to go in there by yourself. The other Lucy never would have done that. She’d have made someone else do it, come up with an excuse for why she couldn’t. Also after what’s happened I don’t know _anyone_ who’d actually punch me in the face like you did. They’re all too scared. Scared of the _stadalla_ , or scared they’ll drive me away.”

“You did deserve it.”

“Yeah,” he didn’t disagree. “Love makes you do stupid shit though.”

“Which… you’re still not?”

“No,” Desmond said.

“Oh good,” she sighed but there was something off about her eyes. “I was worried you’d relapse or something and it’d be difficult for both of us.”

“What I’m saying is that you _aren’t_ just some replacement for Lucy Stillman, the Assassin who grew up in Iowa and infiltrated the Roman Abstergo tower. You’re… you really. I’ll be honest. I don’t even think of you as the same person or even having experienced the same things. She’s one Lucy and you’re a girl who just happens to also be named Lucy.”

She smiled a little, “That’s actually really sweet,” she said.

“I can when I wanna be,” he smirked. “I don’t know how or even if I can help you develop further, but I’ll try,” he said. “You just have to go along with my plan.”

“For the record I formally protest that its a stupid ass plan.”

“Noted. I’m ignoring your protest.”

“Have you told the others?”

“No. I didn’t even tell Cain. The only people who know are the two of us.”

“So its a super secret plan.”

“In a sense. Tomorrow I’m going to tell those from the platoon who I’m keeping on. The rest are relieved of their duties.”

“And this… drafting. How are you going to do that? Picking at random?”

“No. I have my ways. I’m going to need help with it though.”

“You worried the others will talk?”

“Not really. A lot of them are getting tired of me, I can tell. If anything they’ll just complain about me and say I’m terrible, which is perfect for my plan.”

Lucy frowned, “You’re alright with being the bad guy here?”

“I’m already the bad guy,” he said. “I destroyed the fucking _world_. Can’t get much worse. We’re gonna fix it. Together.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “Now I was busy.”

“Right, of course,” Desmond said.

She stepped away from him, hesitated then said, “Want to come? These children don’t see a lot of people. Just me and Cain really. Just because the adults hate you doesn’t mean the children have to too.”

Desmond wavered. He didn’t want it to be weird but he and Lucy were also going to be spending more time together from now on. It’d be weird as long as Desmond made it weird. “Sure,” he said and followed her back to the group of little girls. He didn’t know a thing about braiding hair but Lucy showed him and soon he was able to make something that wasn’t hideous. Lucy thought his terrible attempts were hilarious and he let himself be the butt of the joke. Better than the alternative he supposed, which was being mad enough to shut down an entire part of his ark. He needed to work on that.

—

Desmond was waiting in the grass garden. All the Assassins showed up but a lot of others didn’t. Some Ilythians also came back, many did not. Desmond was just standing, waiting. Lucy didn’t come. They’d discussed it and thought it’d be better for the entire thing if she obviously wanted nothing to do with him to this group of people.

Finally Desmond was left with the eighteen people who’d decided to come back. The humans were all Assassins. Desmond could tell by how they stood. The five Ilythians who’d returned looked like they were here only under protest except for two. One was Baldur, the other was Thor. Good.

“This all of you then?” Desmond asked them at large.

“Only under protest,” Jackson said.

“I’m aware,” he said. “Well, I won’t keep you then. You’re all relieved of your volunteer duties,” he said. “Basically, I don’t want you any more than you want me. I’d rather go alone then with you. You’re dismissed.”

There was some surprised talking briefly before finally someone stepped back. That was the unspoken cue for everyone to slowly make their way out. Baldur lingered even after Thor had left. “Are you certain, _stadalla_?” she asked him.

“Why would you stay?” he asked her.

“I told you one day we should fight. I meant it. I still wish to see you fight for real.”

“Thank you, Baldur,” he said. “We’ll fight soon,” he promised.

“I will hold you to it,” she said before finally leaving.

That left Desmond alone, with John. “What are you still doing here old man?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving,” John said. “You’ll have to remove me if you want me gone.”

“I’ll be honest,” Desmond said, “I don’t.”

“Then why the spectacle?”

“Because I don’t need them. Because I don’t want them either honestly.”

John said nothing for a moment, “But you’re okay with me?”

“You’re the only human who didn’t openly disobey my simple instruction to try to work together at every chance they got,” Desmond said. “So yes, I am okay with you.”

“What are you planning?”

“Something stupid,” Desmond snorted.

“Will I get to be a part of it? Like Baldur?”

“Maybe,” Desmond shrugged. “We’ll see if you make the cut, John,” he said.

“Cut? What cut?”

“The cut of being what I’m actually looking for?”

“Which is?”

Desmond was poignant for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. “I’ll know it when I see it. I’ll see you later, John,” he said and went to leave.

“Desmond,” John said and he stopped, looking back at the old man. John looked conflicted about something, like he desperately wanted to say something. He didn’t. “I’ll come looking if I don’t,” he said instead.

“Sure John.”

“I mean it,” John said. “You’re a good kid, have your priorities in order. I wouldn’t have minded following you to that atoll.”

“Yeah well, you can blame the others for that,” Desmond said and left John alone there.

Desmond caught a lift up to the nursery and found Lucy there as usual and this time she was joined by Jake and they were talking. When Jake noticed him he looked right at him. “You’re a fucking moron,” he said.

Desmond stopped and gave Lucy a look, “You told him?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh she spilled instantly,” Jake said.

“It isn’t a bad plan,” Desmond practically whined. “Like on a scale of shitty to good its a solid ‘decent’.”

“You’re going to make a lot of people very upset.”

“They’ll be even more upset if we all get found by the Adjatevs and they end up digging into Demeter and killing us all,” Desmond said blandly. “My alternative is slightly better.”

“You don’t even know _how_ to use that construct,” Jake said.

“I’ll figure it out,” Desmond said.

“So what? Just gonna wing it and hope for the best?”

“Yeah, basically. Worked for me so far with all the shit that’s happened to me to this point.”

“He’s got a point,” Lucy said.

“Ah! Don’t encourage him,” Jake scolded and she laughed.

“I’m doing the plan. Nothing you can do to change it.”

“I could tell Altair.”

“I wonder what I have to do to your body to make sure you stay Under long enough to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Desmond said with absolute seriousness. 

Jake’s amused face dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Desmond said. “I can’t have you or anyone getting in my way. This is it and I’m already behind schedule. I wanted to start immediately now that I’ve gotten rid of that dead weight from before.”

“How the hell are you even going to pick these people? A random lottery?”

“No. Lucy, could you come with me? I can’t do it here.”

“Why? Do what?” she asked.

“Its too bright here and I prefer it darker.”

“Totally not creepy at all.”

“Oh c’mon,” he huffed. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know. I was giving you a hard time,” she teased.

“I can’t believe you’re actually following his stupid, hare-brained, plan,” Jake said.

“For my own reasons,” she reminded Jake.

“Yeah yeah you’re both such _speeeecial_ snowflakes I know. Can’t just be a guy. Normal guy here, you don’t have to be heroes all the time.”

“Jake,” Desmond said, “You have a nine hundred year old ancestor of a Master Assassin who led one of the most prolific times of Assassin history in your head. That’s not normal guy material.”

“Ehhhh, he’s kinda useless don’t let him fool you.”

“ _Shut up Jacob_ ,” he said in old Arabic and Desmond lost him. Jake looked in his own head like he did for brief flashes when he and Malik talked in his head. It was only for a few seconds but Desmond had learned to recognize it.

“Quick, before he realizes we’re gone,” Desmond motioned to Lucy who followed him out of the nursery to a lift. Desmond dialed in the infirmary.

“What are we going to do?”

“Hook my brain up to a screen and see if it worked,” Desmond said.

“… What? I thought you didn’t do that anymore?”

“I don’t do the Animus anymore. This is just gonna be some wires connected to my brain to project an image.”

“Alright,” she said but sounded unsure.

They arrived at the infirmary and Demeter was waiting for them. “Doing this gives me terrible depth perception, makes it hard to pinpoint exactly where someone is. Hopefully with your help I can.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” Desmond said and Demeter helped him figure out the wires he needed to put on his temples and behind his ears and hook up to a monitor. Then Desmond sat on the ground cross legged.

“So what do I have to do?”

“Just watch the screen. Demeter, dim the lights for me.” The lights went down and Desmond closed his eyes. He immediately opened his third eye and started peeling back the layers of reality. The ark quickly expanded around him. He saw Cain to his right and turned so his back was towards the nova. His ancestors were other obvious bright stars but not as distracting as Cain. “What do you see?” he asked Lucy.

“Lights,” she said.

“Can you access the depth in the screen?”

“Depth I don’t— Oh. Well that’s rather intuitive,” she said. “Yes, I can.”

“Great,” and he turned his third eye to the brighter of the stars. There were his ancestors and several others but he didn’t feel like those were the ones he wanted. He sat there and waited and watched.

“What am I looking for?” Lucy asked after a few minutes of no movement.

“I’m looking for it too,” and then Desmond turned his third eye to Lucy. He couldn’t help it, he opened his eyes. She didn’t exist in his third eye. She was just a dark void in his sight, a piece of starless night.

“Something wrong?” she asked him.

“No,” he shook his head and closed his eyes again. He heard her sit down next to him and turned his third eye towards her curiously. She just… wasn’t there. At all. It was weird. Super weird. No one else in the ark was like that. Everyone else had golden light inside them.

It was a mystery for later. Desmond looked away from her and went looking for what he was looking for. In the distance he could see the neat, orderly, shapes of the Ilythians in their part of the ark. But he wasn’t interested in them. Not really. Not yet. He focused on the humans. At first he thought he was looking for the brightest, the ones that shown the most. When he looked at them though he found nothing of interest there. Not a single officer was a bright star.

Instead they were the ones that seemed to fall apart when they touched others. Their energy was shared and passed to another person, clinging there a moment before dissipating. Desmond didn’t know what that meant but it felt _correct_. Whatever the fuck that meant. “This one I’m looking at. Where are they?” Desmond asked.

“I— hold on,” Lucy said. “I’m not sure exactly,” she admitted. “I can pinpoint them in space but I have no idea where that is in Demeter.”

“Demeter,” Desmond said. “Where is this person?”

“Sleeping quarters,” she said. “Female, appears to be aged seventeen years.”

“Lucky seventeen,” Desmond said and opened his eyes. “Display some footage of her,” he said and Demeter showed a young black woman with a shaved head walking in a hallway.

“Who is she?” Lucy asked.

“According to information taken on all newcomers to my ark her name is Mary Junge,” Demeter said. “Former American. She doesn’t participate in the war effort but was among the first intake from the first plantation take over.”

“I meant, who is she?” Lucy looked at Desmond.

“Our first recruit,” Desmond said. “I don’t know what, but there’s something special about her. Her energy is different.”

“That’s so New Age bullshit,” Lucy said.

Desmond laughed, “No! Really, it is,” he said grinning. “Demeter, put a mark on Ms. Mary Junge so we can locate her later.”

“Of course.”

“This feels weird,” Lucy said.

“Hey, you agreed with the plan. We’re going through with it.”

“But Mary doesn’t want to be part of the military.”

“Demeter,” Desmond said. “Look at your files, I know you keep tabs on everyone here. What does Mary think of the Angel of the Lake?”

Demeter was quiet for about thirty seconds as she rapidly accessed hundreds of thousands of hours of footage and found the ones relevant to Mary Junge and watched them. “Respectful. Sometimes speaks wishing she could see the Angel. Apparently she didn’t get a good look at them at the plantation and she feels regret for this.”

“Man, she’s perfect.”

“Desmond,” Lucy gave him a look.

“Lets find someone a little less perfect,” Desmond said and closed his eyes and peeled everything away. He found another and they did the same for him. Anthony McCollack was a young man in his mid twenties, had picked up arms in the battle of the first plantation but didn’t amount to anything when he’d come here. He wasn’t leadership stock and didn’t have Eagle Vision either though he’d tried to volunteer for Desmond’s suicide mission. A middle aged woman named Jessica Crane (no relation to Rebecca) who’d lost both her children to the proeathans was after Anthony. She was from the most recent plantation attack and had become a cook in the kitchen to feed the hungry masses in Demeter.

There were more. Desmond picked out twenty of them. They all had the energy that didn’t stay in their bodies. Most of them were just normal people but he ended up picking up a few of the army’s officers and even John Smith. Then he’d turned his gaze to the Ilythians.

They were more difficult to figure out. He settled on ones that seemed to not burn the brightest but rather burned _differently_. They were all so neat and orderly though. One of the ones he ended up picking by chance was Baldur, who’s energies seemed to rotate the ‘wrong’ way, if such a thing was possible. The other was Thor, who rotated the ‘right’ way but wasn’t golden, rather Thor was so yellow he was almost white. Desmond picked twenty of them too.

He opened his eyes when he was done. “There,” he said. “Those are the people. The ones I want.”

“You just picked them at random,” Lucy said.

“Not exactly. There’s something about each of them. Trust me. You can’t lie to the third eye because it sees _into_ you,” he tore off the wires and got up.”

“So… what now?”

“Now we deliver the good news to them that the Angel of the Lake needs them for a very special, very secret, mission.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, but sounded unsure. “And if that isn’t enough?”

“For the Ilythians it might not be. For them we’ll go with _stadalla_ if need be. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, lets deal with the humans. I want to get them started soon.”

“And what about me?” Lucy asked.

“You… you… hmmm,” he put his hand to his chin in thought. “You I have to think about,” he said.

“Well figure something out before I have to talk to these people. I don’t like empty promises.”

“Noted. I’ll think of something. I always do.”

“Even if it’s stupid.”

“Its always stupid.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” and Desmond chuckled.


	54. Falling, Fleeting

Their eyes were clear with fury. An old hatred that gave them a clarity Desmond had never seen among the living. The gaunt angels of the Apples were waiting for him, as always, within the white room. Luss, Hegrar, Pind. The angels who’d first taught Desmond to dream share, who he’d been neglecting the past few weeks to take care of other things. For this his ability to control his mind had waned.

“You have returned, _stadalla_ ,” Hegrar said, his voice was scorn and yet desperation. Like seeing Desmond was the sustenance he needed to survive.

“YOU HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOUR PROMISE, HAVE YOU?” Luss asked, her voice as always, soft and seductive.

“No,” Desmond said.

“Your mind has slipped,” Pind said. “Disgraceful. You have allowed it to become unorganized. We cannot teach you if you do not put in the effort. There are no better teachers than us,” he boasted.

“The Cain is not with you,” Hegrar said.

“No. He isn’t. I came alone.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t always need him.”

“Heh. Good. Do not lean upon a man who calls himself Cain. They will be your undoing,” Pind said. 

Desmond had a thousand questions but he needed to focus on what he needed to know. “I need help.”

“That much is obvious,” Pind snorted.

“I need help how to teach someone.”

“Someone not you?”

“No. Help training another. Someone who might have power. But I don’t know. I don’t know how to help her.”

The angels conversed amid themselves, bent over to speak in hushed tones to one another. Hegrar looked at him, “Who?”

“Lucy, my friend,” he said.

“And what makes you think we could help her? That we _would_?”

“Because she’s an angel too-

“Lies!” Luss shrieked. “There are no angels left! They killed us. Slaughtered our entire kind!”

Desmond had his hands clapped over his ears. “What?

“THEY STOLE US,” Luss’ voice dropped back to barely above a whisper. “DESTROYED US,” she pressed her hands over her face.

“What is she talking about?” Desmond asked.

“The proeathans are not kind to rebels,” Pind said. “Much less of their favorite pets: angels. The Decline—

“What’s the Decline?” Desmond asked.

A period of time after Saturn’s rebellion. They culled nearly all of us.”

“DESTROYED US,” Luss moaned. 

“Forced us into this shape. If we didn’t kill ourselves first. They took our hope, so we took ourselves from them. When we were forced into service our kind numbered in the dozens and death was a welcome embrace over this _putrid hell_ we must endure for time unending,” Hegrar growled. 

“So… you don’t know about Eve?” Desmond asked.

“Eve?” Pind asked. “Who is Eve?”

“What do you know of the world?” Desmond asked. “Do you know what’s going on now?”

“Without a wielder, a human, we are useless,” Pind admitted shamefully.

“Wow. Well. Eve was an angel, they called her the second coming of Saturn, or something. She destroyed the proeathans and we became the dominant species on the planet.”

The angels stared at him, awestruck. For a moment their eyes cleared of the hatred, the rage, the agony of their existence. “And now?” Hegrar asked, terrified.

“The proeathans are back. Long story, not important. Point is angels existed after you.”

The angels went back to their huddle again. “This woman. You say she is an angel. Do you even _know_ what that means?” Pind asked.

“I know it means its someone who can use psychic abilities like the proeathans- What’s so funny?” he asked when the three broke into a choir of laughter like the cawing of crows.

“SO YOUNG. SO CLUELESS,” Luss said.

“Angels are _nothing_ like proeathans. We do not have the knowledge to give you this learning,” Hegrar said. “Or the time, the patience, the desire. We could not help this woman you claim is an angel. We are your vessels now. We obey no one else.” Desmond couldn’t help but think of Hawk and his Apple. It did not sing or scream for anyone but Hawk, not even Desmond.

“Then what do I have to do to find this knowledge? To help my friend?”

“While we were kept within that vault for eternity we were in close proximity. Dangerous for things such as us,” Pind said proudly. “You’d think proeathans would learn to to keep us away from one another, even in this wretched state. Even in this shape we can reach out. Our minds are still here. There is one, younger than us, but so clever and knows everything. You want your answers, _stadalla_ , you will seek her out.”

“Who?” Desmond asked.

“LILITH,” Luss said. Oh. That didn’t sound good _at all_. Hadn’t Lilith been the first wife of Adam? She was practically a demon according to the Bible. What was he agreeing to here?

“So I need to find Lilith. How do I do that?”

“Simple,” Hegrar said, “You ask for her. By name.”

“I can do that?”

“Can you?” Pind asked back.

“WE LISTEN. WE KNOW WHAT YOU ASK OF US WHEN YOU SPEAK. WE ARE HUMAN AND ARE CONNECTED IN WAYS THAT HAVE BEEN LOST TO YOU, IN WAYS LILITH WILL TELL YOU. IF ANYONE CAN HELP YOU WITH THIS WOMAN, WHO CAN MAKE YOU DEAF HUMANS HEAR AGAIN, IT IS LILITH.”

“She’s with the other Apples in Venus?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Pind said. “Ask for her. She will show herself to you if she deems you worthy of her.”

“And am I?”

They didn’t answer right away. “That depends,” Pind said.

“On what?”

“On if you’re human,” Hegrar said.

“I am human,” Desmond scowled.

“YOU KNOW THE _SIKAZ_ IN THE WAYS WE NEVER DID. YOU WERE BORN HUMAN BUT YOUR BLOOD AND MIND TASTE LIKE PROEATHAN. EVEN JUST A SIP AND WE CAN TASTE THEIR DISGUSTING TAINT WITHIN YOU. IT HAS MADE YOU DEAF. IF LILITH THINKS YOU ARE CAPABLE OF HEARING SHE WILL FIND YOU.”

“Alright,” Desmond said slowly. “I’ll find Lilith.”

“Good. Is this what you needed from us, _stadalla_?” Pind asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I haven’t returned for you to teach me more. I’ve been busy.”

“What is so important?”

“Making sure humans don’t go the way of the angels,” he said. Again their eyes rid themselves of their hate, their disgust. For a moment they almost looked… happy. “I’ll come again.”

“And one day you will free us. Right?” Hegrar asked.

“Yes. You, and all the others,” Desmond promised. “No one should have to suffer what you have been made to suffer. Once I learn to destroy these vessels, I promise, I’ll free you.”

“We will hold you to this _stadalla_. I’m sure you know our kind do not take well to lies.”

“Oh I am _well_ aware. Now, I need to go.”

“Goodbye _stadalla_ ,” Pind said.

“GOODBYE, DESMOND,” Luss said, succulently. Desmond shivered a little. Then he pulled himself back, out of the white room to his room in Demeter. He was sitting on his bed, the Apples and the crystal sphere around him. He pushed them all together and got out of bed.

“Demeter,” Desmond said.

“Yes, Desmond?” Demeter asked.

“How’s the recruiting going?”

“Lucy wishes to speak with you about that,” Demeter said.

Desmond sighed a little. “Okay. Where is she? I’ll meet her.”

“Follow the path,” Demeter said and Desmond left his room, following the glowing line on the floor Demeter made for him. He found Lucy deep in the human living quarters.

“Oh! Desmond! Thank god you’re here,” she immediately attempted to hide behind him. He put himself between her and the hallway without thinking. She didn’t want humans to see her, too many questions.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“I— I can’t do it,” she confessed.

“Can’t do what?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper, “Lie to these people about why I am seeking them,” she said. “It just feels wrong.”

“Seriously?”

“Well… _yes_ ,” she sighed. 

“Lucy, if we don’t do this we have nothing. Less than nothing. We can’t take the atoll with just us, no matter how cool we are. We need help.”

“But these people… Desmond their just normal people trying to have as normal a life as they can. Not to mention when they look at me like they do I just… lock up. They trust me. I don’t even have to do anything and they trust me. They love me,” she looked away, ashamed. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of them.”

“You’re broadening their horizons. Some of them are just living, but this isn’t a life Luce. They remember the surface. They remember their lives before this existence. Down here they’re all scared of what’s above, of their life. Surviving isn’t living. But what we’re doing gives them purpose. Real purpose.”

“They’ll die,” she whispered. “We’re going to kill them by taking them to the atoll, Desmond. You know they can’t fight and won’t be ready in just a few weeks. How long for we have before the end of October? Two weeks? Three weeks?”

“Then they will be heros we’ll remember,” Desmond said. “You know the humans in Demeter feel hopeless. Cocky from those plantation wins, but it just is so hopeless in the face of the proeathans. You’re going to give them hope, and purpose.”

“You think so?”

“I _know_ so. You’re a goddess-

“I’m not,” she protested.

“Only in your eyes,” he said and she looked up at him in surprise. “Sorry, did I make it weird?”

“I— no. I just— its hard to think like that,” she confessed.

He took both of her hands. “You are their savior. The one they deserve. Angel of the Lake. They want you to give them hope like they haven’t had in years. To them you’re a goddess, and that’s what matters.”

“You really believe that,” Lucy said.

“I do,” he said. “And once I get done here I’m going to speak with a demon woman who is supposed to be able to help me help you. Then you won’t just be a paper Angel. I believe you can do things none of us can. Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just… sell it,” Desmond said. “They love you. You don’t even have to sell it hard.” After a moment, she nodded.

“Demon woman?” she asked. “You don’t mean Tiamat, do you?”

“No,” Desmond said, releasing her hands. “Apparently I need to seek the guidance of a very important angel in an Apple. Lilith.”

“Oh dear,” Lucy said. “Well, when you say that it makes my unease much sillier.”

He smiled at her, “Kinda. Now I believe in you. If nothing else, know that I believe you can do it.”

She took a deep breath, “Okay. Thank you,” she smiled back at him.

“Now. Demond lady. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” she said.

“You too,” and then he left her there. He knew she’d do what they needed. Desmond needed to go do what he needed to do too. He headed for Venus.


	55. Habitation of Dragons

Venus was a crypt. How many of the devices in here were vessels? How many humans were trapped in these hells of the making of the proeathans, forced to serve for eternity? He didn't know. He'd figure it out though, and free them. No one would have to suffer like this.

Venus showed him to the hoard of Apples and Desmond stood over them feeling foolish. The Angels in his Apples said to just call Lilith by name.

“Lilith,” he said into the nothing around him. No. Not nothing. The angels said that they listened through their Apples, even in that state. He wasn't speaking to no one. He was speaking to _all_ of them. “Some of your brothers and sisters told me I needed to find you. I need your help. Show yourself.”

A row away a device began to emit yellow light. Desmond looked at the Apples. They _had_ said Lilith was in an Apple right? Maybe they didn't know the difference in their states. Or maybe to them everything was an Apple. Regardless Desmond followed the light.

The light poured from a box. Desmond looked inside and within the box was… A cup? A really fancy cup sure. But just a cup. And it was big. Like big enough that Desmond would have to pick it up with two hands. It was made of the same silver material as the Apples, the outside perfectly smooth like the surface of a still lake. The inside was cut with the familiar line work of the proeathans. The lines glowed gold so the cup- goblet honestly, was literally overflowing with light.

Desmond reached into the box with both hands and picked the goblet out. The light show dimmed. How did he access the interface for this thing? He didn't even know _what_ it was.

“Uh, Venus,” he said. “What is this?”

“A chalice,” a female voice said. He didn't recognize it but realized he did. He'd heard it once, in Mercury. It was Venus. Her real voice. 

“What's it do?”

“It is a luck eating device, used by the faceless. You fill it and confess your sins to it. It eats your luck, leaving only good luck behind. It's an unholy vessel we created to temper our luck.” It sounded like a lot of horse shit honestly.

“So I put water in it and talk into it?”

“Saltwater,” Venus said. “Or better yet brackish water. Or salt water mixed with blood. If the name you called for is truly in that vessel then I would go with the salt and blood. Lilith was that sort of woman.”

“You know Lilith?”

“Stories of her. She was part of Eve’s rebellion. She was very powerful, and deadly. Exercise caution around her, Desmond.”

“I planned on it,” and he held the chalice by his side and left Venus. 

He went to one of Demeter’s gardens and filled the chalice with salt water. He set it on the ground and held his hand over it. The smart material on his wrist shifted and slid up to his fingers, pricking three of them at the ends. Blood welled up at the tips and dropped into the calm water of the chalice with little plops. Desmond let himself bleed until the water was red before using the material to create a bandage around each finger tip to stem the bleeding. 

Desmond leaned over the chalice. His face was reflected in the red surface. “Lilith,” he said. “I need your help. I was told by Luss, Pind, and Hegrar that you could help me when they couldn't. So…” He sighed. “This is stupid,” he muttered and leaned back. As he did the face in the cup changed. It went from his reflection to that of a woman. Desmond leaned back in surprise.

The woman in the cup had her eyes closed. She looked pretty normal honestly. Well as normal as someone from tens of thousands of years ago could look. She wasn’t _ugly_ but she wouldn’t have turned any heads in Desmond’s time. He got the feeling, by the way she held her head, the way she tipped it just so, like she was looking down on you, that she’d been a beautiful woman for her time. Her lips were too thin, and the high cheekbones that were favored in his century weren’t on this woman. She looked… homely. She had no skin. Well, not real skin. Instead her body looked like it was made of thick applications of paint put there by a pallet knife. Her blonde hair was like limp corn silk, limp and shiny and frail.

Desmond leaned back over the chalice slowly. “Lilith?” he asked her.

Her thin lips pulled into a smile, “It has been a long time since my name has been spoken by the living,” and Desmond had trouble looking at her as she spoke. Her mouth moved but there was a delay with the sound of her voice. The two weren’t synced and it was difficult to watch her talk. Not like she could see him, her eyes were closed.

“I was told you could help me.”

“Mmmm, yes. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’ll be the first bit of purpose you’ve had since you died that wasn’t to be used by the proeathans as their bullshit magic machine.”

“Ah,” she said, “a fair point, child. Perhaps I can help. What do you have for me?”

“I have a friend. She’s different than the rest of us. She can do things-

“Is your friend proeathan?”

“No. She’s human-

“ _How_ human?” Lilith interrupted him again. She wasn’t interested in his fumbling. She wanted the facts.

“She… is a synth.”

Lilith said nothing for a few moments. “A synthetic human? They’re still making those? Desperate for what we have they resort to this bastardization. Humorous,” she spoke in a matter of fact dryness.

“Can you help her?”

Lilith’s grin was devious, “Perhaps. For the right price.”

Desmond sighed, “Of course. What is it?”

“I will not know if I can help your friend without meeting her,” Lilith said. “But if you want me to meet her you must pay one price, and another for me to give her what I can.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Tell me what happened to my sister,” Lilith said.

“Your sister? I don’t know your sister-

“Eve!” Lilith cried. “Tell me what happened to Eve.”

Desmond digested that. “You and Eve were sisters?”

“Through bond, if not by blood. Like they’d risk us forming large families. It could lead to our bloodlines running together too much. Brothers and sisters could lead to inbreeding,” she scoffed. “Now tell me what happened to my _sister_ ,” she hissed, eyes cracking a little but Desmond couldn’t see what they looked like.

Desmond sat back and thought about how to break the news to Lilith. The others hadn’t known that they’d won the war then. That their rebellion had been successful and it had been tens of thousands of years. How did he tell Lilith her friend had destroyed the world?

“Confess,” Lilith said. “I can feel your fear, taste your sin. Confess.”

“Your friend is dead,” Desmond said blandly. “She died after she destroyed the world. She entered an ancient construct and wiped out a huge portion of intelligent life. The fallout of the even killed billions.”

“But did she do it?” Lilith asked. “Did she free us?”

“Her actions led to humans becoming the dominant sapient life forms on Earth,” Desmond said.

Lilith sighed in relief. “Then her death was meaningful. My death. Adam’s death. All of us. And yet there are _still_ proeathans. What happened?”

“She sent them to sleep, she didn’t kill them all. They came back. They’re killing us. Enslaving us. I’m the _stadalla_.”

“Oh? One in truth then? How quaint.”

“Like Eve-

Lilith laughed. “Eve was never the _stadalla_. We just said that to get people to believe. To give her confidence. My sweet Eve… she didn’t want what we wanted for her. She didn’t have the flame within her to truly become _stadalla_ , not the right stuff.”

“So it was all a hoax? You used your friend? Someone you call sister?”

“Don’t get it twisted boy,” she said scornfully. “We were dying. A species at the brink of extinction. A few more decades and there’d be no more angels. The proeathans did their jobs well when they killed our goddess. They took our will, our fire. We submit to them and when there is no drive to protect, to fight, angels die. They fade away when the threat is gone.”

Desmond chewed his cheek and leaned over the chalice. “Okay stupid question. What _is_ an angel?”

“A human psychic,” she said.

“So like people who can use sight linked empathy?”

Lilith laughed. “No. Oh you _fool_ ,” she scoffed. “A psychic! You have been fed _lies_ your entire life. Since the sun rose over the Unnamed and showed our forefather’s Atlantis for the first time we have been fed lies.

“Lies that we are lesser. Lies that we are deaf. Lies that we have five major senses. Lies that we are born to make war, born to inflict violence on one another. That is the great lie the proeathans bred into us when we came to Atlantis so long ago and we believe. That we were _like them_.

“No. An angel is humanity’s greatest creation. Born of our desire to protect and love one another. We are born when our people need to be protected from terrible threats. We are born to keep one another and to form great bonds. We are born when our people are listless and need direction to overcome the obstacles around us. We are for one another, and never for ourselves.”

“I still… I don’t understand,” Desmond confessed.

“Drink,” Lilith said.

“What?” he asked.

“Drink from my cup.”

“That’s salt water and my blood,” Desmond grimaced.

“Do as I say. Drink,” she said a third time.

Desmond hesitated and then he picked the goblet up. “What’s going to happen when I do?”

“The chalice is an E’dn machine. It allows me to use my E’dn as I did in life in certain ways. For proeathans it allowed me to access their memory and take it.”

“You’re a telepath.”

“All angels are telepaths,” she said.

“Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” she said. “A chalice eats luck. It eats memories of states of bad luck. A very powerful machine. But only when given access.”

“So you want access to my brain?”

“Are you proeathan?”

“No?”

“For humans a chalice allows the weaker mind to enter the stronger.”

“You think you’re stronger?”

She chuckled. “Child. I _know_ I am. I was the angel who first saw dreamed the dream of the end of the proeathans during the Decline. The one who felt Samael and Azrael’s betrayal at the hands of our slave masters the deepest.” Desmond had no idea who either of those two were. “You have already entered the minds of greater beings already. Luss, Pind, Hegrar, they are greater than you.”

“As great as you?” Desmond asked.

“Few were,” she said proudly.

“And all I have to do is drink?”

“Yes.”

Desmond still hesitated, “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Do you think I lie?”

“In modern religion you’re, basically, a demon. So yeah, kinda,” he said, kinda teasing her.

“Oh. I like that,” she said. “But fear not. To the proeathans I was a demon. To a human? Well I didn’t help lead the rebellion for no reason.”

Desmond looked at Lilith’s face in the cup. The inner bowl was lit dimly by the grooves in the goblet. It was just salt water and blood. He’d really had grosser things in his mouth before. He knew it anyone else was here they’d probably knock the goblet out of his hand. But, they weren’t and Desmond was desperate.

He drank deeply.


	56. The Mother of Owls

Desmond was in a White Room with Lilith. She was as before and unlike the angels in the Apples he could see her, could see her proper shapes and forms and knew her features. She was very tall for a woman. Nearly as tall as Desmond. He had to think that that bothered proeathans at the time, that a human woman was almost as tall as them. She kept her eyes closed even now.

“So. You going to make some sense now?” he asked her.

“Just because you’re stupid doesn’t mean I don’t make sense,” she said.

“Okay, I deserved that one,” Desmond grudgingly allowed. “So if I’m stupid, educate me.”

“This woman,” Lilith said and he could feel her looking at him behind her eyelids. “You call her an angel, but you don’t even know what one is. Others call her an Angel,” he could hear the capital in her voice, to add authority to it maybe. “But its different. How ironic that you’d use it the way you do. Messengers of god,” she almost sounded sad, or scornful even. “Not so far from the truth I suppose, in the end.

“I cannot tell through your mind if she is an angel or not. A proper angel. One of us, and not just hope. I will meet her, World Ender,” she said.

“I’m not a world ender,” Desmond growled.

“Oh? You’re not? So you’re _not_ a _stadalla_?”

“I am,” he said.

“Then you are a World Ender. You…” she approached him and Desmond held still. She reached out and touched his face, fingertips light and gentle. Nothing had ever touched him in a White Room before. It jolted him mentally and he felt like he was about to burst apart. It felt like being back in his coma, in the Black Room. A tipping, sinking, enlightening, thrilling, feeling that rolled under his skin. She smiled a little. “Yes, a _stadalla_ ,” she said softly. “And one of us.”

“One of who?”

“Who did you come from? What is your heritage?”

“Uh… I’m from a legacy of warriors,” he said, she wouldn’t know what the Assassins were after all. “Dating back thousands of years.”

She giggled, “Ah! That explains it then. I wouldn’t have thought we’d have been born without the proeathan conflict to gestate us.”

“I— What are you talking about?”

“What? You didn’t guess? For all your great psychic power you didn’t _realize_? Though… we’re all dead now. No one would have known when they looked at you,” she placed her hand on his chest and it was like he was standing in front of a huge speaker. He could feel her pulse against his skin, reverberating through his entire body. “The _stadalla_ was born angel this time,” she said triumphantly.

Desmond blinked at her. “What? I’m not-

“Not what?” she asked. “Not a human psychic?”

“I mean, that’s just because I can use the proeathan sixth sense?”

Her laugh was bell-like and made his head ring and ache like it was being pinged by a silver hammer. “You’re the _stadalla_ , you can use _both_ the _hotai_ and the E’dn, that is the point of you, stupid.”

“What? _Hotai_?” he’d heard the word, knew it was related to the Unnamed, but not what it was. It and _stadalla_ were the two words that transcended language and existed the same in every proeathan nation-state.

Lilith tipped her face up slightly, like she was listening to something. “Much has been withheld from you,” she said. “Or more like the proeathans believe their own lies about the nature of us. Pity,” she patted his chest and each tap was a gong. “It falls to me then.”

Desmond looked at her, “Seriously?”

“Well I can’t have you running around without understanding yourself can I? Nor will I tolerate the _stadalla_ only knowing the _hotai_ and not his birthright.”

“Okay,” Desmond said slowly. “So, what’s the _hotai_?”

“It is the proeathan psionic wavelength. It is through this that they accomplish all their great feats of power. But it is limited. The _hotai_ is a selfish power. It is limited to the self and concerning of the self. There are a few instances of it being used to see beyond itself but its rare.”

“Like _hodori?”_ Desmond asked.

She paused. “Yes,” she said slowly, “like _hodori_. Proeathans use it to view themselves in the world. I can tell, from just _skimming_ your mind that you know many _sikaz_. All of them are about seeing aren’t they?”

“I guess? The ones I’ve used. But I’ve heard of others, like _hodori_ , and there’s pyromancy-

“Have you ever _seen_ a proeathan pyromancer?” she asked him.

“Well… no,” he admitted and then jumped when a wraith made of flame appeared next to Lilith. It was a proeathan, Netalian with their crisp black and red lines and sharp red makeup. Their black hair was a flame above their head and their body was a searing fire that rolled off and up their skin. It licked at their clothes and it looked like they’d been coated in gas. But they didn’t scream in agony or fall to the ground in pain. Instead they just stood there like it was the most normal thing to be on fire.

“This is the pyromancer Martius, who fought during the end of the First War against us. He was a master at his craft. The High General liked to have his scouts find our camps and send Martius and his pyromantic brothers to set it aflame. He is responsible for the deaths of hundreds.” The wraith proeathan shifted in stance, holding his hand out to Desmond and Desmond could feel the head on his face. “His favorite method of killing was to burn our faces off with his bare hands. His flames could burn so hot that he was immune to physical attacks and even shooting him did nothing. The bullets would melt before they made it to his skin and become consumed by the flame.”

“Did you kill him?” Desmond swallowed.

“Yes,” Lilith said. “But not before he’d killed many.”

“How’d you kill a guy on fire who couldn’t be killed?”

“We trained our own pyromancers,” a human appeared. Not very tall, but with a serious demeanor. Martius faced the human and advanced on them. He extended his hand to them like he had to Desmond, to burn their face off. Then Martius was extinguished like someone had blown out a candle. “Proeathan pyromancers can call flames to themselves. They can ignite their bodies and anything they touch so long as it is connected to them through touch. But they cannot share their flame. They will set things on fire but not like we can.”

“What do you mean?” Desmond asked, looking between Lilith and the two pyromancers. Pyromancers. Actual fucking pyromancers. It was insanity.

“Human pyromancers who resonate on our wavelength, the wavelength of the E’dn, use their pyromancy like all angels. We project.” Desmond stepped back when the human held their hand out to Martius and a gout of flame sprang from their palm like a flamethrower, engulfing Martius. Now the proeathan did burn and fell to the ground in silent agony, writhing in it. “In this case, flame. The fire is not part of us, but we are connected to it. We are able to manipulate it _beyond_ us. A skilled human pyromancer can light a candle twenty feet away without ever touching it.”

Desmond tore his eyes from the burning Martius back to Lilith. “How?”

“How?”

“How can we do things proeathans can’t do?”

“Because we are different,” she said proudly. “The proeathans would have everyone believe that they are the apex predators of the world. But tell me, what sort of predator is a strict herbivore? Proeathans evolved in the middle of the food chain where they came from, in the cold of the north land. They needed to protect _themselves_.”

“Why?”

“Because they were prey,” she said, like it was obvious. “Prey animals have a similar, but lesser, ability. They know when they are hunted. They can perceive the world around them in ways that hunters cannot. They stick to groups to protect themselves but in a do or die situation they’d rather keep themselves safe over others.”

“And humans?”

“I’m sure you know by now. Or I’d hope we’d advanced enough for you to know, but we began in an inhospitable land where we had to work together to survive. In the cooler temperate lands the proeathans came from food was always abundant. For us, it was not. So we had to rely on one another to see ourselves through. We learned to hunt as a unit to take on bigger prey, protect ourselves from our competition until we simply began to outcompete. There were stories, stories you will never know, of humans hunting and tracking creatures thrice their size. Nothing no sane predator would do without extreme skill or the ability to cooperate. Its why lions and hyenas are so successful. They work as a pack. Just like humans.

“Unlike the proeathans our psionic abilities weren’t to alert us to the dangers of being hunted. They were to hunt. To hunt you need to communicate across great distances. So the E’dn evolved in us to be our resource to connect with one another. To project to our fellows.

“In the time of angels, even as slaves, you could never be alone. Those of us with greater ability always… _felt_ one another. Once we’d freed ourselves of the shackles of slavery we even learned that in our species telepathy is fairly common along with the greatest gift our species has. Dream sharing. A grand global conscious that connects all humans together.

“By the look on your face you don’t believe me and you’ve never experienced it.”

Desmond blinked slowly. He was just trying to absorb it all. It was a lot to take in at once and he said as much. “How— how do you know all this?”

“Because it is the history we learned when we freed ourselves. The history the Goddess Saturn knew and learned when she entered the Unnamed and then went about to free us.”

Desmond looked at her then down at himself, then back at her. “I’m an angel too?” he asked her.

“Any human with psionic abilities is an angel. You think it is the proeathan in you that gives your your power?” She scoffed. “No. It is the power that our people have had since we were first free. Power that the proeathans were so blind to and yet so _jealous_ of.”

“Jealous? Why would they be jealous? Weren’t they super advanced when we stumbled upon each other?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But if you had the power to read another’s mind, to know their most intimate thoughts, to touch someone in a way that no one else could, to know the ins and outs of your lover’s mind and there would never be any confusion or surprise in their actions-

“Stop reading my mind,” Desmond growled through clenched teeth. Lilith’s smile was sweet and coy and for a second he hated her. If she was a telepath and could skim his thoughts she knew for a brief instant he’d brought up Lucy to mind and their tryst from Spain to Mexico.

“Wouldn’t you want that?” she asked. “The proeathans did. So they enslaved us and turned us into their play things. Even before my time the proeathans were known for their breeding programs. To get this trait from their favorite human, or see who could breed the best angels. Who could _suck up_ to the faceless and Atlantis enough to gain their favor with their best angels?

“All they succeeded in doing is turning us into them,” she said. “We used to not look so alike you know. I saw pictures, part of my ‘education’ in my garrison while I was a slave, that included early drawings of humans when we first met the proeathans to show how uncivilized we were. To make it seem like we were nothing but _animals_. They bred that out of us, turned us to look more like them, to be visually appealing to _them_. The breeding also turned us from being fiercely dependent on one another, which led us to being born angels, to being dependent on them. Angels only exist because we need one another to keep each other safe and provide for us-

“And once you had proeathans doing that you didn’t need angels anymore?” Desmond asked.

Lilith smiled cheerfully. “Yes. Exactly. All they succeeded in doing when they tried to _make_ more angels, to experiment on, to force to learn this disgusting _sikaz_ , is make us less than we were. Proeathans say we had no sixth sense because we cannot do what they do. They force their _hotai_ upon us but we fail and we fail and we fail until we do something they can accept as power. Show me the power they convinced you was all humans had,” she challenged.

Desmond hesitated and felt foolish but went into Eagle Vision. “You look like them,” she said. “Disgusting,” he quickly fell out of it. “Part of their grand plan I’m sure.”

“Yes, actually, it was,” Desmond said. “They created peoples with strong proeathan bloodlines, to carry through the centuries. Sixteen bloodlines, and when they all intermingled with enough potency they’d make the _stadalla_. Or something.”

Lilith scoffed, “ _Make_ the _stadalla_? The Adjatevs are bigger megalomaniacs than I expected. They thought they could engineer a god?”

“I’m not-

“Silence,” she said. “You, like all _stadalla_ , are a god.”

“I’m no- wait. Did you say _all_ _stadalla_?”

“I did.”

“There were others?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“How many?”

“Sixteen,” she said calmly. “Sixteen times in the history of the proeathans that their way of life has shifted so profoundly that it was christened the end of the world, and the beginning of a new era, the bridge between states of chaos.”

“But the proeathans made it sound like I was the one?”

“Oh they would,” she said. “If they engineered a sacrifice like you I’d want them to think they were the biggest mistake in the world too.”

“What?” Desmond breathed.

“So they could control you. They engineered your existence- perhaps not _your_ existence Desmond, but the existence of a being like you- to be their sacrifice. But to give so much weight to a human? It must have burned them so,” she purred, gentle delight in her voice. “They would want you to think that your existence is the great mistake of the world. That your existence is a burden, a trial, an agony. Tell me, does it feel like it is?”

Desmond hesitated, “Yeah. Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Tell me, when did you learn you were so special? From who?” She waited until he confessed. When he did it was about Altair, the Apple that corrupted him, Altair seeing him through centuries. The entire experience with his family, the Templar, and found himself just telling her everything. He showed her his sins and she listened without asking for more, without prompting his words. She just stood there, listening to his tale of how he came to be.

They stood in silence when Desmond was finally done. Then she smiled and it was so sad and angry and amused. “You must understand. What the proeathans did to us in here. When they forced us into these vessels. It is an agony. The reason my brothers and sisters are so hateful and furious and twist everything they touch is because the proeathans made them into this shape. A vessel is a conduit to force the E’dn to be enacted. It magnifies our natural powers and allows those without those abilities to use them. It allowed proeathans to use the E’dn in limited ways but it was always difficult, it was why they were mainly tools of angels.

“But the future we see in these vessels, twisted by hate and rage and pain, is disconnected. Before the Quiet, when we were still slaves, the collective mind of humans could see into the future with unerring accuracy. It was our minds working together collectively that created this clear image. But through a vessel- an Apple, you can only see what that one angel can see. And one mind in the state we are in cannot get a clear image. The future,” she paused a moment, collecting her thoughts on how to best explain what she wanted to say.

“Some would explain time like a river, others, like a fabric. It isn’t. We are made of atoms and those atoms are made of particles, those particles exist in every moment of time from the beginning of the universe to the end. Time is the shape of life and we exist in every instant of it. Seeing into the future isn’t just being able to see the future, its able to predict where and _when_ those particles will exist and in what shape and how they will be. True future sight is a snap shot, a single instant captured when we pinpoint those specific particles in that place in time. Does that make sense?”

“I…” Desmond grimaced. “No. Sorry? I mean yes, but no? I’m not really so good at this kinda stuff,” he admitted. “I just kinda go punch things people tell me to punch and try not to get myself killed.”

She chuckled. “What I am trying to say is that when we view the future alone it is imperfect. It is why your Altair saw what he saw. He only saw through the lens of one angel and it could only see what the proeathans predicted would happen. Proeathans view time as a loop, a mobius loop. Things have a start, the _stadalla_ , and they have an end.”

“Also the _stadalla_ ,” Desmond said.

“Heh, indeed. For them the future is always a fixed point. For them the future will _always_ show the _stadalla_ , because they know nothing else. Within these… _prisons_ , that’s all they can see. This false future of the _stadalla_ who brought about the end of the war humanity wages against itself, who ended and era, and brought back the proeathan. But had they been able to connect with even one other vessel the future would have looked very different. It would have been more clear, closer to the truth of time.”

“That’s why Cain says Apples lie?”

“About the future, yes,” she nodded.

“Okay, maybe stupid question. How come I can only do some things with an Apple I can’t do, say, by myself?”

“Such as?”

“Invisibility?”

“What sort of invisibility?” she asked, not at all sarcastic.

“There’s more than one sort?”

“Yes, of course. Proeathans can’t become invisible without forcing obedience from a vessel. Humans can use two types. Light bending, a type of telekinesis, very rare, and augmenting the way they’re perceived by others through empathetic receptors. Much more common. Quite literally you’re invisible by projecting, very loudly and firmly, telepathically, that you’re invisible.”

“Like when you cover your eyes and pretend no one can see you because they can’t see you?”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that,” he admitted. “Not even with an Apple. You make it sound like it doesn’t work with things that aren’t me?”

“Its more difficult to make people not see things that aren’t yourself, yes,” Lilith said.

“And you can probably see yourself when you do that?”

“Yes.”

“But light bending? You can’t see anything?”

“It can turn anything, everything, invisible to the naked eye. You, things not apart of you, others.”

Desmond rocked back on his heels a bit and looked at Lilith helplessly. “Well, sign me up for light bending cause I used to do that all the time with an Apple without even really trying,” he huffed.

For the first time Lilith seemed lost for words. “Really?” she asked.

“I think so? Every time I used invisibility I couldn’t see myself, and I made other things disappear too. Like a motorcycle.”

“That… is amazing,” she said. “There are few recorded light benders. To have that level of control over telekinesis to affect photons is extraordinary.”

“Yeah that about sums up my existence,” Desmond said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He suddenly felt selfconcious about his abilities when Lilith, a powerful ancient angel from the First War, laid the praise on so thickly.

“But you can’t do it without the assistance of a vessel?”

“No. But then, no one ever taught me.”

“I… don’t believe I could,” she admitted and then laughed. “Saturn,” she said it like people spoke of God, “I’m just a Cain, I don’t know the first thing about light bending.”

There was that word again. Not a name, a word. Cain. “What’s that?” Desmond asked.

“What’s what?”

“A Cain. You said you were a Cain. My… friend, I guess,” he shrugged and grimaced at the same time, “his name is Cain. When he told the others that they sneered and made it seem like, I don’t know, that he was lying. Or he was acting stupid.”

“Cain, hmm,” she rose her eyebrows at him and he knew she was looking into his mind. “A half breed,” she sneered a bit. “He is not an angel, he could never be a Cain. Wishful thinking I’m afraid. But skilled in other ways… my, he sees through the _hotai_ at all times? That must be exhausting. If nothing else I acknowledge his skill for that, his endurance.”

“But what’s a Cain?” Desmond pressed.

“A very dangerous thing,” Lilith said. “We agreed that when the First War was over we would train no more pairs of Cains. Its too destructive.”

“Pairs?”

“Yes, of course. Every Cain needs an Abel- oh. Oh that’s adorable,” she cooed and then straight from his mind appeared the illusion of Altair and Cain. Lilith tipped her head at them. “Couldn’t be a real Cain, so he made himself into one. Even fashioned himself an Abel. Quaint.”

“You going to tell me what they are?” Desmond growled.

Lilith turned to Desmond, “We’re probability weavers,” she said bluntly. “We affect the causality of the universe. One of us goes out and upsets the balance of the world, the Abel, and then the Cain goes and simulates their murder to bring balance back to the universe.” Desmond felt like he’d just been tipped on his head.

“ _What_?” he stressed. “How is that even possible?”

“No idea,” she smiled. “But we can. Proeathans can peel back reality and view the world in auras and some even learned to see in wavelengths our eyes were not originally designed for like ultraviolet and gamma. I heard of proeathans who had perfected the _sikaz_ of staring into the abyss of space and _seeing_ planets that circled distant stars.”

“That’s impossible. Not even our strongest telescopes can do that,” Desmond insisted.

“And yet it is so. Who knows why Earth was gifted with two hyper gifted dominant species, but it was. Maybe it was a fluke. Who knows.”

“I… I need to sit down a second,” and Desmond did. He looked up at the illusions of Cain and Altair. “Did— did Cain turn Altair immortal somehow?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lilith said.

“You said he made himself an Abel. He calls Altair Abel… Christ, did Cain know what he was calling himself?”

“Possibly,” she said. “If he had any records of the First War that mentioned the types of angels the United Army went against during our final conflict then he’d know of Cains. He’d know what we were capable of.”

Desmond rubbed the top of his head. “And who was _your_ Abel?”

She frowned, sad. “A man I loved who didn’t love me. His name was Samael.”

“Not Adam?”

“ _Adam_?” she scoffed. “I didn’t even bother to know him other than Eve thought he was _soooooo dreamy_ ,” she mocked. “She always had horrible taste in men. Stupid as a dog and twice as hard to train. Best thing that ever happened to him was being forced into that vessel.”

“How can you say that? You just said yourself, its a hell.”

“Because at least he was useful,” she said scornfully. “In life all he did was hold Eve _back_. She was such a nice girl, but too gentle. Adam made her weak, unable to do what needed to be done. Once he was out of the picture things changed. She was angry.”

“Love makes you do crazy shit,” Desmond said.

“Yes, it does,” she said and he thought she sounded somewhat guilty.

“What about control? People have been using Apples to bend people to their will for centuries,” he said after they’d stayed in silence for a short while.

“Unintended exploitation of our power. The E’dn is a sharing power. It allows us to connect to one another. It also allows us to exert our will on others. But we would never do that. To use the E’dn in such a way would have been against the very principle of the thing.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can we do it?”

“All powers have useless things associated with them,” she said.

Desmond leaned back and looked up at the endless white-ness. “I think I use the E’dn like that,” he said after a longer time. “Not on purpose, but I do. When everyone is trying to talk to, or over me, I just go ‘be quiet’ and they stop. I’ve always kinda been able to do it. That make me a bad angel?”

“Manipulative perhaps, untrustworthy definitely, but bad? I’ve never known the sort,” she said slyly.

“Huh,” Desmond was silent again. “Lucy’s an angel. I realize that now. She can see things that are invisible. Who knows what else. Pluto knew she was capable of it. I need you two to meet, you’re going to train her, in however a way you can.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Shall I train you as well? I admit what you may be able to do fully will be beyond my full scope to teach but the basics are all the same.”

“Will that lessen my other abilities?”

“I don’t see why.”

Desmond tapped his foot thoughtfully. “I can do that thing. That thing proeathans can do where they peel back reality. I see people for what they are, under their skin, under their bodies and blood, into their soul. Or something. When I look at some humans they share their soul, others do not.”

“That is the taint of what remains of the proeathan blood in their bodies,” she said. “And that sharing is what you _should_ see. We connect, we share, we give.”

“Except not Lucy,” he continued. “She doesn’t exist in that sight. Any ideas?”

“Proeathan _sikaz_ see proeathan things. If you cannot see Lucy that means she is not proeathan. It means that— Saturn praise. It means she’s the first pure human there’s been since we were enslaved hundreds of thousands of years ago.”

“You think so?”

“Its the only answer I have. I was not skilled at the forced _sikaz_ the proeathans made us learn to be ‘useful’. I have limited understanding of them.”

“Hmmm. Okay,” Desmond got up. “I need to leave now. I need to go get her. I’m sure she’ll _love_ you.”

“Sarcasm isn’t becoming World Ender.”

Desmond’s eye twitched. “Right. Get me out of here. You and I got work to do.”

“Very well. Keep me safe.”

Desmond opened his eyes. He was lying slightly spread eagle on the floor. Lilith’s goblet was held limply in his hand. Above him was Hawk’s concerned face. “Little Bird,” he said, it didn’t sound like the first time he’d tried to wake Desmond.

Desmond breathed deeply, waking in a single breath. “Hawk? What are you doing here?”

“Demeter called me. She said you drank from that goblet and have been passed out for hours. She was worried. Are you okay?” he reached out and touched Desmond with more gentleness than Desmond realized the broken man had in him.

“I’m fine,” he said and sat up. Hawk moved out of the way. “I just—“ he looked at the chalice. “I was talking to someone. A very old someone. I need— I need to find Lucy, right away,” he said and got up. His legs wobbled a little but he stayed upright.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hawk asked, putting a hand on his back as he also stood.

“Yes. Fine. Sort of,” he looked at the chalice again. “I met an angel. You’d like it, probably,” he said.

“Why would I?”

“Cause she knows shit, and you love knowing shit,” Desmond said. “Now. Lucy. Demeter, has Lucy seen all my new recruits?”

“The humans, yes,” Demeter said. “They were all ready to serve the Angel of the Lake.”

“Great. Take me too her. We got a date with a demon lady,” he hefted the chalice.

“Desmond,” Hawk put his hand on his chest as he made to walk away.

“Yeah?”

“You sure… you’re okay?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I me?”

“Your eyes kid,” he said, concern clouding every word.

“What about my eyes? They blue or gold or something?”

“No-

“Then what’s the problem?”

Hawk took the goblet and filled it with water. “Look,” he pulled Desmond’s face over the water. The liquid grew still and Desmond could see his reflection. His eyes were blacked out. No sclera. No iris. Just an empty void. Desmond jerked back, spilling half the water in the goblet.

“The fuck?” he looked back into the cup. His reflection stared back at him, his eyes remained black. He reached over the water and let the band knick his wrist. Several fat drops of blood fell into the water. “Lilith, show yourself. What the hell did you do?”

“I?” her voice came from the water and Hawk’s eyes were huge when she appeared as Desmond’s reflection. “I did nothing. As I told you, you are an angel.” She opened her eyes for the first time. They were dark voids. No sclera, no iris. They pierced the world like a scalpel and left nothing in return. “Now you finally look like one.”


	57. Call the Choir

There was an eerie silence between them. “What?” Desmond asked.

Lilith chuckled, “Proeathans have their eyes, so do we.”

“Well I’m not doing anything. How do I go back?”

“Focus, child,” she said sternly. “You are projecting now. Look around you.” Desmond did. “I opened the tap that has been closed for so long. Focus, bring it in.” Around Desmond the lights were flickering. No. Not flickering. The lights were staying the same. Desmond was _bending_ the light. When light was bent away from his eyes and not allowed to hit his retina it appeared as flickering light.

“What did you do to me?” Desmond asked. “How can I do this?”

“You have _always_ been able to do this. You simply didn’t know you could. You told me you were a telekinetic, so I opened that pathway first. Now be silent. Focus. Draw your mind back in. Organize the chaos.”

Desmond looked back down at Lilith and then at Hawk who was staring up at Desmond rather fearfully. They were both flickering in and out of sight. He couldn’t control the light bending. Desmond realized that he was also probably flickering for _them,_ or maybe parts of him were as photons failed to enter their eyes from Desmond directing it elsewhere. No wonder Hawk had been so worried about him. He closed his eyes and focused. He did what he did when his glyphs started to get out of control. He pulled it back. When he opened his eyes the lights were still.

“Better,” Lilith said. “The proeathans taught you one thing if nothing else; focus. Now look into the Chalice.”

Desmond did. His eyes were back to normal. “So humans get all scary as shit when we use the E’dn,” Desmond said.

Lilith’s face reappeared. “Indeed. Proeathans tighten and focus their perception of the world, condensing it to a single point; themselves. We expand our perception until we fill an entire room. Now go. Find me this Angel and we will see if she is an angel in truth.”

“Right,” and Desmond threw the rest of the blood colored water onto the grass. He looked at Hawk who was staring at him, wide eyed.“Yeah?”

“Please don’t do that again. You had me worried,” Hawk said sincerely.

“Sorry,” Desmond said. “Gonna have to. Now. Demeter, take me to Lucy.”

“Of course, Desmond,” she said and Desmond and Hawk left together. They separated and Desmond went to track Lucy down.

—

Unsurprisingly he found Lucy in the nursery. There she was reading a story book to a group of children. He smiled when he saw her and went right up to them. She looked up at him then held up a finger for him to wait. He sat down at the edge of the group and listened to her read the rest of the story.

Once she was done she said goodbye to the children and Desmond joined her closer to the door. “So?” she asked, “How was your talk with the demon lady?”

“Great,” Desmond showed her the Chalice. “Your turn next.”

“What? Desmond I don’t-

“I can’t train you,” he said. “I want to, but I can’t. Lilith can. She’s… amazing Lucy. Like beyond anything I’ve seen in any human. She’s like Tiamat. She knows things we don’t know and won’t ever, unless we ask. She wants to meet you too. And I think I have an idea.”

“About?”

“Those people we’ve found.”

“Well? What is it?”

He smiled hugely. “They’re angels, Lucy,” he said. “That thing I thought was different about them, that you saw on the screen. They’re angels.”

“What’s… that mean?”

“It means they’re psychics. Like me. Like you. Like… like the proeathans but different.”

“Desmond. You’re way too excitable right now and are hard to understand,” she said patiently.

He laughed. “Sorry. Sorry. It just is exciting! Oh man its so exciting. I already know what to do. What we’re going to do. How we’re going to keep all these people, or at least most of them, alive when we go to the atoll,” he grabbed her arm.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll explain once you meet Lilith. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand and led her out of the nursery to a private garden. “Demeter, make sure we aren’t disturbed. If we stay in there too long have someone come get us though.”

“Desmond,” Demeter said. “I’d like to formally protest what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, why?”

“It concerns me.”

“Why?”

“Because I worry for your safety,” she said gently.

Desmond looked at Lucy a second. “Noted,” he said. “But this is the beginning of something amazing Demeter.”

“Or another apocalypse,” Pluto put it.

“Just what we need,” Hera said without sarcasm. “The world was left to rot under the humans. But the proeathans did not care for it either. It has been long enough. The luck of the Seventeenth is about to come to fruit. An apocalypse is what we need.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, a bit unsure.

“She’s saying she believes in you,” Lucy told him. “She just does it weird.”

Desmond chuckled a little. “All right,” he said. “Demeter, salt water.” A short time passed before a small tank came up from the floor. Desmond filled the Chalice and sat on the ground. Lucy sat opposite him and he put it between them. “Hold out your hand,” he said and squeezed his hand. The band around his wrist shifted and became a knife in his hand.

“What are you going to do?”

“Its a proeathan machine. It needs blood,” he explained. She extended her hand and he gently cut the tip of one of her fingers. He then dunked it into the salt water before cutting his own. He held his finger over the water and let the blood drip in. Lucy followed his example. “Lilith, I brought the angel,” he said.

Her face appeared in the water and Lucy leaned back, startled, just like Desmond had. “I know,” she said, her eyes were closed again and she wore a warm smile. “I can tell.”

“This is Lilith?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” Desmond said. “She’s going to help you- us. All of us.”

“Just as I did for Eve before I was forced into this shape,” Lilith said.

“Okay,” Lucy said slowly. “So. What do we have to do?”

“Drink,” Lilith said.

“That’s disgusting and unsanitary,” Lucy said, seemingly before she could stop herself.

“You are a woman are you not?”

“Well, yes?” Lucy was confused.

“Then we both know around men you have had-

“Okay okay I get it!” Lucy cried.

“What?” Desmond asked.

“She was making a bad dick joke,” Lucy said, her face a bit red.

Desmond blinked. “Oh… _oh_ ,” he said. “Lilith that wasn’t nice.”

“Weren’t you the one who said I was a demon of myth now? Now drink, and we may begin. Let us see what miracle this woman is.”

Lucy looked at Desmond uneasily. “I don’t know,” she said.

“I’ll drink first,” Desmond said and picked up the goblet. “Lilith don’t let me drop you.”

“I would never,” she said as he took a swallow of the salt and blood. He managed to hand it to Lucy before he whited out again.

—

When Desmond came to he and Lucy were lying side by side on the grass. Above them was a ring of faces. Desmond’s AI. They looked down at him with serious expressions and ones of concern. He looked over and saw Lucy also coming to, blinking awake slowly. He looked up at Demeter. “How long were we in there?”

“Long enough that I was about to summon Altair or Cain,” she said.

Desmond groaned as he sat up. He had a massive headache. “How long?”

“Eight hours,” she said. “Your previous foray was only three.”

“Yeah well we were busy.” He looked down at Lucy. She hadn’t moved from where she lay and was just staring upwards. “Lucy, you okay?”

She closed her eyes and her lips pulled into a smile. A few tears trickled out of her eyes. “I have never been better,” she said. He’d never heard her sound so happy. So calm and at peace with herself. With anything. Then she abruptly sat up and grabbed his hand. “It makes so much sense now why people follow me,” she beamed at him.

Desmond smiled back at her. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Though I can’t wrap my tongue around what the hell Lilith said you were. I think her English couldn’t figure that out from our brains.”

Lucy giggled, “No,” she agreed. “Now, what was your idea for the humans we’ve recruited?” she asked, eyes bright. For a second he couldn’t speak. For a second she looked like how he used to see her but without the filter of obsessive love. She was happy and maybe for the first time since she’d been created, loved what she was. For the first time seemed to accept herself and really realize that she was herself. That she wasn’t Lucy Stillman 2.0 and wholly and truly her own person. She was so beautiful and Desmond’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

He cleared his throat. “The people I chose. They’re angels too. Maybe not from Lilith, but they could all _learn_ to use the E’dn too. If we could teach them, that means we’d have a force of _angels_ when we go to the atoll. They wouldn’t even have to do any fighting. Proeathans are scared of angels after what we did at Toba. The possibilities for what we can do.”

Lucy looked down at the Chalice. “I wouldn’t want to submit them to a woman like Lilith,” she said.

“Nor I,” Desmond nodded.

“If I may,” Morpheus suddenly interrupted.

“Yeah?” he looked up at the dark clad hologram of a would-be god.

“Apples were not simply used as weapons. As you have seen through the misuse Hawk did to Jacob they can be used to _teach_ as well. Not through the Bleeding Effect, but directly, as the three angels have been helping you, Desmond,” he said.

Desmond blinked, “I never even thought of that.”

“There are so many things you do not know and will not because there is not enough time,” Morpheus said. “But we know things. I believe it is time we stopped keeping them from you.”

“It could be dangerous Morpheus. You have seen what humans are like-

“I have,” he interrupted Mercury. “Which is why I am saying this. Do not act innocent. We made them this way, so we should take responsibility for what our younger sibling species does not know. That is our duty as the original caretakers of this world, not to enslave those lesser than us.”

“This mean you’re gonna be level with me now?” Desmond asked him.

“I have been silent for a long while, _stadalla_ ,” Morpheus said, his voice gently echoey. “But I feel it against my nature to remain so. Protector of children. And what are all you humans but children of this world?” He gazed at the others. “I think you all could be reminded of your natures and help _more_ ,” half of them didn’t meet his eyes. “Any questions you have, Desmond, I will answer, even if others will not, or cannot.”

Desmond smiled a little, “Thanks Morpheus. I appreciate it.” He turned back to Lucy. “We could do that then. The angels in the Apples are intense but not like Lilith. I could talk to them, make them cooperate with us.”

“And what about the proeathans we’re taking with us?”

“Protectors? Most of them are just good at fighting and have the fighting future sight,” then he started to think. “It’d be pretty demoralizing to be attacked by your own people wouldn’t it? I’ll wear Od down and bring more proeathans with us. But they’ll just be there to fight once we’ve made a beach head.”

“Of good. Cause the suicide mission idea was basically the dumbest idea I’d ever heard,” Pluto said.

“Well you weren’t helpful at all Mr. Grand General,” Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Did you _ask_ for my help? No. You just wandered around coming up with stupid plans all on your own,” Pluto said.

“He has a point,” Lucy said.

“All you. Get,” Desmond waved his hand, they disappeared. “So nosey. Alright. So I need to have a meeting with the Apples and get them to agree to help us. Once I do you can have the humans, and our proeathans come together and get them train.”

“And what will you be doing for this?”

“What I do best,” Desmond said with a grin. “Causing trouble.”


	58. Building a Nest

Lucy had made the choice of where everyone would have the first meeting. It was strictly for humans. No proeathans allowed. Not yet at least. It was part of the plan. Lucy had picked a normal room, no gardens today, but one with comfortable chairs. Probably a good idea for today. Desmond had made sure Demeter also provided _ample_ bins for vomiting. He suspected there would be some before the day was over.

She was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for everyone to show up. Apparently there was a level of excitement amid the humans when they’d heard the Angel of the Lake had chosen some of them for this meeting. A buzz Desmond had fully expected and left Lucy feeling nervous and uneasy. In front of her were three times as many vessels as people Desmond had chosen. Not just Apples today. But others. Swords, Ankhs, Shrouds, Scepters, and others. He’d gone into Venus and just started picking them at random putting them into a duffel bag by feeling alone.

He’d spoken to all the vessels already, using that crystal sphere Cain had first used to join Pind, Hengar, and Luss to help teach Desmond dream sharing. There had been a great deal of denial about ‘new angels’ but they’d all agreed, for the same desire; that Desmond destroy them once it was over. Desmond planned on destroying every vessel he could get his hands on once the war was over, but they hadn’t needed to know that. It made his life easier if he could just promise something he was going to do anyway.

The vessels were quiet, not even interacting when near one another. They were waiting.

Desmond leaned against the chair Lucy was sitting on, playing with the smart matter in his palm, making it run through different shapes at will, appearing bored and unaffected. It made quite a convincing show for the ten people already there. They were waiting for the other ten, these people had just arrived early. Leaning on the chair Desmond knew he cut a rather intimidating form, dressed all in black, with a hood that obscured most of his face, playing with some sort of malleable black material that sometimes turned into a knife. Especially next to Lucy, who was dressed in blue and white, her hair pushed back from her face. She sat in the chair like a queen. Desmond had had to give her like three pep talks to get her like that too. She was strong, but people, especially people who loved her unconditionally, intimidated her. Looking at her now, poised and statuesque, you’d have never known.

It was all painfully deliberate, to set a tone, which was as important as what they were going to do here. Normal people wouldn’t notice it. It was amazing what normal people _didn’t_ notice.

The rest of the people trickled in till it was all twenty of them. Desmond only glanced at them, as though already bored with them. Lucy stood up from the chair and everyone keyed into it, getting a bit more attentive. “Thank you for coming,” she said gracefully. Desmond knew how many times she’d practiced what she was going to say. This was important. They were _running out of time_. They had about four weeks maximum to train these people and it was important that it happened and that they weren’t stuck here spinning their wheels like they had been with wasting all that time with the human and proeathan volunteers. “You’ve all been chosen for a very special reason.” Desmond looked at the humans again. Everyone except John were bright eyed and amazed. He was the only one with reservations. Not that Desmond blamed him. He smelled a ploy when he knew it.

“And that is a special mission,” Lucy continued. “Normally I would undertake this alone, but this is too big for me. I need help. This is where you come in.”

“How could we help you?” Des smirked a little when John asked the question Lucy had practically begged. John was a soldier, an Assassin, and knew the acts. John knew when commanders threw a lead and needed someone to take it. Desmond saw the same question written on everyone else’s face but only John had been brave enough to ask.

“Each one of you is a very special individual,” Lucy said and took a step aside to the table with the vessels on it. She picked up a Sword and it shimmered in her hand. “With abilities that have long been hidden. The proeathans would have us believe we’re weak. Stupid. _Cattle_.” Disdain rippled through the little group. “But that’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” someone muttered and some nodded their heads.

“It is wrong,” Lucy agreed. “Which is why I’ve chosen you. We are _not_ cattle, we are _not_ weak.” She hefted the Sword a bit before putting it down. “Forget everything you know about us, about proeathans. Today you will learn truth, and we will be _smarter_ than the proeathans. Today we start to make you strong, to be able to stand beside me.

“But right now, you are weak. We’re fixing that. Right now. These are the vessels,” she motioned to them. “Powerful artifacts of our people.”

“I thought they were proeathan,” someone pointed out.

“Lies,” Lucy assured them. “They would have you believe it to keep us down. So that we wouldn’t know how to fight back. No, the vessels they made were always ours. Its time to take them back.

“You will come to the table and take a vessel. As you can see there are _many_ vessels. More than you. I want you to pick the one that _feels_ right.”

“How will we know?” someone asked.

“You will know,” Lucy promised. Desmond disengaged from the chair and went to stand on the other side of the table as Lucy said, “Do not rush your choice. If you have to pick up every vessel to find the one that suits you, do so. Now, come forward,” she beckoned.

They hesitated. John stepped up first. Good ole’ John. He went to the table and looked right at Desmond. Desmond’s grin wasn’t nice and he expanded his senses. Around him appeared all the minds trapped in the vessels, standing around him on his side of the table. Swords in knightly armor, Scepters in great robes, Shrouds wrapped in muslin like a cloud. All of them brimming in fury and impotence. They couldn’t see him, but he could perceive their existence as easily as he could see John. What he really wanted though was for his eyes to change.

He knew they had when John jerked back in surprise.

“Chose,” Desmond said and when he spoke it was like a promise.

John looked at the array of vessels. “How?” John asked. Desmond didn’t answer. John looked to Lucy.

“Trust your gut,” Lucy said. “That is _your_ sixth sense telling you it is the one. Another may join him,” she added, coaxing the other humans forward. They came forward slowly and were all equally intimidated by Desmond’s pitch black eyes.

The woman Jessica Crane picked her vessel up immediately. It was a Scepter and when she held it it threw out a brilliant light show. In Desmond’s vision the apparition he could see glowed as well. There were a various ‘oohs’ from the others. “It supposed to do that?” Jessica asked.

“Yes,” Lucy said. “It means that vessel _chose_ you. It connects with you on a level that these others don’t.”

“Connects with me how?” she asked warily.

“It does the same thing you can do,” Lucy said. That didn’t seem to make much sense to Jessica. “Come with me, I will show you,” Lucy said and guided Jessica away.

Desmond stood where he was. “What are you doing?” John asked him in a whisper. “What happened to you?” Desmond didn’t answer either question.

“Chose,” Desmond said again instead. John scowled at him.

“I found one,” someone said and Desmond looked. They were a woman in their mid twenties. Her name was Heather Boul, she had a Sword. The entire blade turned golden. Hushed talking started among the people. Now that two people had found their vessel they were more interested in finding their own. John moved away from Desmond, going down the table, to find his vessel.

Over the next several minutes the entire group picked up their vessel. Lucy had since come back from being with Jessica. “Everyone find one?” Lucy asked them. There were nods and ‘yes’s. “Good,” then she looked at Desmond and nodded. Desmond needed about five seconds to shift his focus from seeing all the vessel projections, which he’d only done to get the black eyes, to light bending. He made the table and the rest of the vessels all vanish in a blink that made a few people start.

“What did he just do?” one of them asked.

“He made it disappear,” Lucy said, her voice a touch proud of him. Desmond was proud too. He’d only been at this a week and a half with Lilith and was already leaps and bounds above what he’d previously been capable of. He could light bend nearly at will now, and other stuff of course.

“Is he like us? You chose him?”

“No,” Lucy said, “he does what he wants. I can’t seem to get rid of him.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Desmond asked and practically slithered around the group to stand next to Lucy. He very disrespectfully put his elbow on her shoulder. It would have been comedic since she was so much shorter than her if everyone didn’t look _furious_ with him.

“Bah, go away. I’ll deal with you later,” Lucy waved him off.

“Aww, sending me off Angel?” he teased and smirked at her. He watched her eyes and knew she had to keep her face in check from smiling at him. It was pretty silly but no one seemed to catch on to the act but them and John who thankfully said nothing.

“Yes, be gone,” she waved her hand at him again and Desmond bent light around himself and vanished. A few people gasped.

“Did you do that?” one asked.

“Send him away? Yes,” she said. “Now, the next thing we have to do with your vessels is learn to access them to get at the knowledge inside. Everyone find a place to sit, I’ll walk you through it.”

As Lucy talked the humans through entering the White Room and helping those who struggled to do so, Desmond went and collected the forty or so unused vessels and put them back into the duffle he’d used.

“What are you doing?” John’s voice asked him softly. Desmond looked around then down at himself. He and the vessels and the bag were all invisible. “I can hear it,” he said.

“Why aren’t you doing as the Angel says?”

“This is pointless,” John said.

“John,” Desmond said patiently, not caring Lilith would be _furious_ with him if she knew he’d done what he was about to do. “Go find somewhere to sit and listen to the Angel of the Lake. I’m going to need you to be the example,” he said through the E’dn.

“Fine, whatever kid,” John huffed and went to go hear from Lucy. Desmond finished packing up all the vessels and putting them away. Demeter opened a hole in the floor and Desmond dropped the bag into it. She’d ensure they were kept safe until Desmond collected them later and returned them to Venus’ ship. As they left his hand he released the shifting photons around it and it became visible again. Then he went and sat away from them and dropped the cloak. His head was _pounding_.

Skilled and powerful he was he was still learning and between the e’dn and all the _sikaz_ Desmond’s head was full to the point of bursting. Extended use of any psychic power, regardless of origin, left him with a migraine a mile wide. It’d started when Lilith had begun training him, teaching him, better than Luss, Hengar, and Pind, knowing what he needed to do what was needed. Anything over a few minutes and he’d have to do it through pain. He could do it of course, but he didn’t like it exactly. Lucy didn’t suffer like he did. Lilith said it was because his brain was trying to do so much at once, and doing things that strained even normal people. Also he was new at it. Lilith thought that in time the migraines would go away, he just needed practice.

Desmond looked out at the others and Lucy. Twelve had vomited and Lucy was reassuring them that it was normal, speaking soothingly to them and coaxing them to try again. More vomiting. Half an hour passed before Lucy had everyone in their vessel with their angelic teacher. Once there there wasn’t anything she could do for them.

She went over to Desmond and sat next to him on the floor. After a moment he sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “This is crazy,” she said.

“It isn’t crazy. Its a miracle,” Desmond said with a slight grin. “You did it,” he patted her knee reassuringly.

“But what if they can’t—

“They can. They were born to do this, just like you. Their bodies _want_ to do this, its the natural state of it. A state we’ve pushed away and ignored for too long.”

Lucy nodded and they sat in silence a few minutes. “This mission to the atoll. Will they be ready?”

“I hope so,” Desmond said. “We’re running out of time.”

She looked at them, “And you’re okay with them? That they might hate you?”

“I don’t care, really,” Desmond shrugged. “As long as they’ll follow you, they don’t need the full truth.”

“What do you think we’ll get?”

“Hopefully a pyromancer,” Desmond said. “At least one. Probably a couple of illusionists. If we aren’t lucky we’ll get someone like Lilith.”

“But isn’t Lilith powerful?”

“Yeah. She also told me they wouldn’t train anymore Cains. Not that I blame her. Ability to alter the causality of the universe? That’s pretty dangerous.”

“Still seems ridiculous.”

“What is so advanced from what you can understand appears as magic,” Desmond said.

She gave him a look, “Don’t misquote at me,” she said and bumped her shoulder against him.

“Heh. Right,” Desmond smirked.

Lucy leaned her head back against the wall. “The others are gonna be so mad,” she whispered. Desmond looked at her and she caught him. She smiled when she looked out of the corner of her eye at him.

“Good,” he said. “We’ll do this. We will,” he nodded and looked at their new angels sitting in their chairs, passed out in various positions, their vessels cradled in their laps. “And from here its all down hill.”

“What? Its going to go bad, but-

“No. Its going to get easier,” Desmond said. “Any of them that survive this. They’ll be real angels, Lucy. They’re going to be able to teach others. We won’t need the vessels and we can move on from the broken and bitter things locked up there. There are others out there, and there will be more. Probably everyone born these past few years are angels, and they’ll need someone to teach them.”

“Not you?” she asked.

“No,” Desmond said rather forlornly. “I don’t expect to make it out of Atlantis. I get to the Unnamed and for good or bad, my story’s over.”

“You don’t believe that,” Lucy said.

He looked at her, “I do,” he said evenly. “The world is going to end, again, and I will be the bridge to the new beginning. But I won’t get to see it. Not as I am. We’re both from an old time, everyone here is. Whatever happens in the Unnamed isn’t going to be for us.”

“For the next generation?”

“And all the ones after,” he said. “This one’s a bust. Need to strive for a better tomorrow— Heh,” he smiled a little at a sudden thought. “My brother told me that was the Miles motto. Through Blood we strive for a better tomorrow.”

“Seems appropriately Assassiny,” she teased him.

He chuckled, “Yeah. I guess so. This is the start of our better tomorrow,” he nodded at the people.

“And its all down hill from here,” Lucy said. Desmond started a little in surprise when she rested her head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything about it and just sat with her there as their people learned more about themselves than just about any other human ever had.


	59. Little Shrikethrush

Desmond gave them a week and a half. The young psychics came to the room Lucy had chosen and trained with their angels in their vessels. Lucy forbid anyone from speaking of it.

People had complained of course. “I can't even tell my husband where I go every day?” someone had asked.

“No,” Lucy said. “It's a secret until the time comes.”

“What if someone does it anyway?” John had asked.

“I will know,” Desmond said, standing behind and to the slight side of Lucy. “Disobedience will not be tolerated-

“Quiet you,” Lucy snapped. Everyone seemed wary now. They still didn't know who or _what_ Desmond was. Still didn't. The way Desmond wanted it. The current theory was he was like the angels in the vessels and no one told them otherwise. Lucy preferred to ignore him until he said something mean or rude and then berated him, or told him to shut up. Desmond was mean about eighty percent of the time, so he was constantly being told off. It made him disliked, and Lucy worshiped. All according to plan. “If people knew you had abilities, abilities till now we've all thought only the proeathans had, they'd turn on you. You'd be like the ones who have killed the entire world. When I tell you not to tell anyone I do so because I want to protect you. Now please, do not tell _anyone_.”

They hadn't.

When they weren't here Lucy encouraged them to practice on their own someplace safe. Desmond could tell the people who had by how stressed out they were today. Today Lucy said was the day they shared their abilities with each other.

And some important people.

Desmond's ancestors were here with them. As was Cain, Jake, Clay and the heads of the Assassins. Od and his seconds were also here with several masters of Ilythian fighting. Desmond had briefed everyone here, except the new human psychics, on the situation and the game he was playing. Cain had applauded and Altair and Ezio had been disapproving but understanding. The Ilythians hadn't understood why but had let it pass thinking it was a human thing. Andrew had seemed genuinely concerned, which annoyed Desmond to no end.

Lucy’s Angels were all brimming with dread and anticipation and nerves. Desmond was standing behind her, normal looking but drab in her brilliance. He was so fucking proud of her for coming into her own during this. She was significantly more confident today than she'd been nearly the entire time training these people. She didn't need a pep talk anymore before the start of each session to give her courage. She could do this.

Once the last person had arrived Demeter closed the door. “Everyone,” Lucy said, addressing the new Angels. “Today is the day we show the fruits of your efforts. The mission I have planned is drawing closer. Today we're showing everyone what we’re capable of. That this mission, which I know some of you think is suicidal, is possible. Because we have _you_ and our enemy is expecting you about as much as they expected me. Which is not at all,” she offered them a reassuring smile.

“Now I know we can do these things. I believe. These people,” she motioned to everyone watching, “they don't. They think it's crazy. A human with powers. Who wants to prove them wrong?”

They were scared, and hesitated. Only for a second. “Me,” John said. Desmond knew he'd picked right with John. He stepped into the empty area between the watchers and the psychics.

“What are you, John?” Lucy asked.

His grin was devilish. “Marr said I was a pyromancer, among other things.”

“Show us,” Lucy said.

John didn't even hesitate. Desmond smiled. Wiley old man. John’s eyes turned black and he held his hand under but not out. There was a spark as he snapped his fingers and a flame six inches tall burst into existence in front of his face from his fingers.

“The hell?” Ezio asked and when Desmond looked the Italian looked like his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Most of the humans wore similar expressions, or their jaws were on the floor. Only the Ilythians didn’t seem surprised. Od’s eyes were narrowed and Desmond sensed a conversation when this was all over.

“Like I told you,” Lucy said. “A human psychic. Is that all John?” she asked.

“What you want something more impressive?”

“What else can you do?”

John released the flame but his eyes remained expanded. Desmond wondered what it was like to see when you used pyromancy. Like the _sikaz_ , using the e’dn affected the way you saw the world. “Well I promised Demeter I wouldn’t shoot any fire balls, but I can do that. And this,” he got into a basic stance Desmond recognized as the first form of the Assassin martial arts. He was like that for a second before punching. John laughed when everyone jumped back when flame shot out of his fist in a stream. It dissipated quickly.

“Wow,” Jake said. “That was _fucking amazing!_ ”

“Thank you John,” Lucy said. “Who’s next?”

“I will,” Mary Junge, the black woman with the shaved head, said. She and John changed places.

“And what can you do, Mary?” Lucy asked.

“I’m a telekinetic,” Mary said with a smile like it was the best thing she’d ever done.

“Impossible,” one of the Ilythian masters hissed in English.

“ _Silence_ ,” Desmond bit at the Ilythian. “Or I will take your tongue and feed it to you.”

The Ilythian was taken aback by the hostility and said nothing. Od turned his narrowed eyes at Desmond in dislike. “Show us, Mary,” Lucy encouraged.

“Uhm, well,” she said awkwardly and then pulled out a necklace of glass beads. “Serrha said to practice like this. I don’t know how much I can lift though,” she said and cut the string the beads were on. They scattered and rolled across the floor before they all came to a dead stop three feet around her. One second they were rolling anywhere they wanted the next they were static. Then they were lifted into the air and one by one she threaded them onto the string, using only her mind. Desmond hid his smile. Wonderful, just wonderful.

“Spectacular, Mary, just spectacular,” Lucy said and Mary flushed and shyly looked away, stepping away back into the group. Everyone was just in silent awe at what they were witnessing.

“Me next,” Anthony McCollack said. Lucy nodded for him to tell them what he could do. “I’m an illusionist,” he said proudly. He closed his eyes and didn’t open them as the room got darker and clouds formed in the ceiling above. Lightning flickered in the perfect clouds, but there was no thunder.

“Amazing,” Shaun said as a false rain started to fall.

“Enough!” Od cried. Anthony lost his concentration with a jolt and the illusion snapped away like smoke being blown by a stiff breeze. “This is a mockery,” he pointed at Lucy. “You think us fools?”

“Yes, actually, I do,” Lucy said calmly. “Fools who denied I was anything, that _we_ were anything. You’ve known all along we could do this and you hid it from us,” she seethed. Desmond stood behind her, looking at Od with a smirk. Don’t forget I’m here, it reminded Od. Don’t forget the thing you fear is supporting this.

Od bristled, his face working. Inti touched his arm and Od glared at him but the thin man didn’t retreat. “And the last time you wielded such a power you nearly destroyed yourselves. Destroyed the entire world,” Od said. “Your kind is too reckless for such power.”

“Well maybe if you’d have accepted what we could do instead of turning us into cattle we could have handled it,” Lucy said right back. “Your people are to blame for this, Od,” she said.

“My people did nothing-

“Exactly,” Desmond said. This was getting too heated and with actual angels in the room they were feeding off the violent energy that was pouring out of Lucy like a faucet. This would turn into a fight if he didn’t step in. “You did nothing,” he stepped around Lucy, for the first time since they’d started this, getting in front of her. “But we aren’t here to point fingers, at who is wrong, and who is right. That happened thirty _thousand_ years ago. The only enemy we should be worried about isn’t in this room. It is the Adjatevs, who started this misery.

“Now calm yourself, _Ando_ , this pettiness is beneath you,” Desmond said with all the cockiness of someone used to getting his way. He could see the fury of the disrespect in Od’s eyes but the proeathan did nothing. Desmond checked him in the future sight of the Ilythians and Od was unmoving. Good. “And you, Angel,” he threw back at Lucy. “Don’t tarnish that pretty face of yours.”

“Shut up,” she said, unamused.

“I have seen enough,” Od growled. “If I was not so invested now I would reconsider this venture after such a show of disrespect from your abo-” the word caught in his throat.

“Careful there _keen_ ,” Desmond said with a mean grin, “Or you’ll become a _lir_.”

Od fumed and stormed out of the room. The rest of the Ilythians followed. Desmond let them go. “He’ll come around,” Lucy said to the concerned Angels.

“How?” someone asked. They all knew the plan needed proeathan support or they'd all be dead at the atoll.

“I'll work on him,” Desmond said and that did nothing to settle their nerves. “Continue the demonstration,” he said and stepped back again.

Lucy had the rest of the Angels present themselves. Then it was over. She dismissed them and many were grateful to leave.

Altair walked over to Desmond and grabbed his shoulder, “That was amazing,” he said, a bit shell shocked by the whole thing. Everyone was.

Desmond pulled his hood down with a smile, a nice smile. “I know right?”

“Can you do that?” Hawk asked.

“Yes,” Desmond said. “And so can Lucy.”

“Other question. Can _we_ do that?” Ezio asked.

Desmond hesitated, “I don't know,” he admitted. “What gives someone Eagle Vision isn't what makes someone an angel. You have a higher concentration of proeathan in your blood than others. I'm unsure if it prevents it.”

“Don't you do too?” Jake asked.

“Yeah but I'm a weirdo. It's different for me,” Desmond said.

“I have to say, kid,” Cain said, “You came up with a plan, figured it out, and followed through with it to success. Big step in right direction. I'm proud of you.”

Desmond didn't miss the way Cain glanced at Altair. Maybe Cain was teaching Altair to be a better human being again, “So am I,” Altair said. “Of both of you,” he added, looking at Lucy. If that wasn’t a boost of instant confidence nothing was. As shitty as Altair could be sometimes hearing someone who was nearly a thousand years old you’d been trying to get the respect of say they were proud of you was a real uplifting feeling. Especially after how rocky Lucy and Altair’s initial relationship, one of distrust and dislike, had been this was a _huge_ step in a better direction even if Altair did respect Lucy some for what she had done at the plantations.

“Thank you,” Lucy said.

“So what next?” Shaun asked.

“Next I go and talk to Od and pull that big head of his out of his tiny ass.” That made everyone laugh. “And now that we know they can really do it, now its time for the next step. Weaponizing their abilities.”

“Unfortunate,” Lucy said. “But given the circumstances its necessary.”

“How will you even do that for some of them?” Shaun asked again. “Like so what, they can make illusions. That isn’t real.”

“You’d be surprised what can happen,” Desmond said simply. “We fought against them before with our abilities. We can do it again. Not to mention every proeathan we're going to be fighting at the atoll and at Atlantis have faced real, fully empowered, angels. They know angels as the destroyers of the world, their civilization. Even if we can't fully weaponize their abilities if we can make them _look_ like pre Toba event abilities it'll be enough to shake the proeathans.”

“As it was Od reacted badly to something as innocuous as rain,” Lucy added. “Meaning they've seen Angels do _much_ more than that. It scares them, that the species they see as so _less_ is as great as them.”

“Scared things fight back,” Altair said.

“Yeah,” Desmond said, “They also run.”

“So you have twenty angels,” Shaun said, “and you think you’ll really get Od to come around? Cause without them what do we have?”

“Well, we still have me, and that’s enough to probably freak out the entire atoll if I just showed up,” Desmond smirked. “But he’ll come around. He’s just proeathan, he can’t help he’s kinda speciesist. He grew up being told humans were inferior to his kind in every single possible way.”

“Still-

“I should remind everyone,” Cain interjected rather gently, “a proeathan like Od is probably four hundred years old. He’s got unlearning to do. It doesn’t come easy.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Desmond said. “So I’ll talk to him. And either he does what I say willingly, or I force his hand on the matter. Regardless, it will get done. The Ilythians will be necessary to move against the other proeathans at the atoll, and get everything into position for Atlantis.”

“And what about Atlantis?” Desmond blinked a wince when Andrew asked him that. “What do you plan to do for that? How do you even know the construct at the atoll will be helpful?”

Desmond grit his teeth. They weren’t unfair questions. It was just his dad asking them that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Well it raised Atlantis, so I think its a safe bet it’ll be useful,” Desmond said and only through sheer force of will he wasn’t sarcastic.

“And what do you think you’ll accomplish at that atoll exactly?”

“Well if Toba was a huge EMP, maybe I can do something like that without blowing a crater into the Earth like Eve did. Shut down all the enemy numia and robots and machines. That’d be a good start right?”

“Can it do that?”

“We don’t know it can’t,” Desmond said, feeling himself getting heated. “Toba, the atoll construct, and the Unnamed. They’re all connected, if nothing else maybe I can use it to _get_ to the Unnamed without having to leave a mountain of bodies behind me. What a thought right?”

“If the proeathans built all this stuff, why haven’t they used it before now? Why aren’t they using the atoll construct right now?” Shaun asked and that made Desmond’s hackles lower a bit. “You said you just walked right in. Well, what’s stopping them from doing that now?”

Desmond had no good answer. He didn’t know. He also didn’t pretend to understand the twisted religion that controlled the proeathan’s entire society and way of life with an iron fist either. “Because we did not build them,” Morpheus said and fazed into visibility. He was like a living shadow, tall and ominous.

“Wait… what?” Jake asked. “What do you mean you didn’t build them? They’re proeathan constructs.”

“No,” Morpheus said. “We found the Unnamed. It calls to us, and so we came. We built Atlantis, which called to you, and so you came. But these constructs, they do not _call_ to either of us, and they are hidden from us. We never found them in our time. We also were not looking for them.”

“You lead Desmond right to one,” Hawk said. “You knew where the Pacific construct was.”

“We spent the better part of four years scouring your internet and satellite images and data for it. It was no easy feat when our systems are not completely compatible with yours. Only through carful data collection and review did we find the atoll construct. It was like T’bkan and we knew like it it could be of use. What use, we didn’t know.”

“So… what are they?” Ezio asked, scratching his neck a little.

Morpheus was quiet a moment. “We don’t know,” he said. “No data was gathered about T’bkan before it exploded and we’ve had no real contact with the Pacific atoll. But if it is anything like the Unnamed then it is old. Very old.”

“Like how old?” Hawk asked.

“ _Millions_ of years old, if not billions. The material we made our bases of is nearly indestructible, but you know that it is possible to damage it, that it _breaks_ , and will eventually crumble. The Unnamed is true indestructible material. Nothing we devised or developed in our long history could so much as scrape it. Thus we have no real way to date how old the Unnamed is but our scientists believe it to be nearly as old as the Earth.”

There was a long silence, “How is that possible?” Hawk asked.

“We have no idea,” Morpheus said.

“They could be wrong though, right?” Jake asked. “Like you just said you have no way to even date the material. Couldn’t it be from your ancestors?”

“Perhaps,” Hera said appearing next to Morpheus, her unflinching mask as creepy as Morpheus’ dark demeanor. “It is said that when Pluto arrived on Atlantis the Unnamed was there, awaiting his arrival. Some less used pieces of scripture say that he forged it from solid luck. We liked to tell that to those who doubted our claims about it being a killer, but is unlikely that Pluto or his apostates made the Unnamed.”

“But they _could_ have?”

“Perhaps. Though what techniques they used to create it were lost to us in time,” Hera said.

“And no idea what it is?” Hawk asked, “What its made of?”

“Something harder than diamond that can withstand a diamond blade and the super hot cutting tip of a diamond cutting laser,” Morpheus said.

“So then where did it come from? And these constructs?” Andrew demanded.

“We don’t know. Perhaps our ancient people did build them.”

“Maybe it was aliens,” Jake said.

“Shut up, Jake,” Desmond said.

“What? I’m just saying is all.”

“If aliens existed why the hell would they come to a planet in the backwaters of the galaxy?” Desmond asked.

“It was just a thought. Jesus,” he pouted, folding his arms over his chest.

“Well its just like our ancients,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “For a long time how humans made great structures like the pyramids or stonehenge or other huge structures was thought to be aliens. Its only been in our modern time we figured out how stupid we were and all of it was possible through engineering. Proeathans probably have the same sort of ancestry,” she shrugged. “The technique was lost and one day you’ll find it again.”

“Perhaps,” Morpheus said.

“Regardless of what the construct is,” Desmond said, “I need to get to it. The harvest is almost over, the Adjectevs will have Atlantis on lock down by now. We won’t be getting in without fighting our way through and leaving an ocean of bodies behind us. If there is _anything_ I can do at the construct that could help us, I have to do it. Earth has had quite enough genocide to last us a long time. I think we can all agree on that if nothing else.” There was no objections to that.

“In the mean time me and Lucy will keep working with the angels. Getting them ready. I’ll go talk to Od. The rest of you need to prepare for our assault on Atlantis. Prepare our army,” he didn’t scoff at it but it was hard. Army. A few thousand people. Against the might of the proeathans which numbered in the tens of thousands of soldiers, probably even more. It was laughable. The Ilythians would help but even their force of thirty thousand wasn’t even all military, just proeathans who disagreed with the Adjectevs. The Adjectevs probably had ten times as many soldiers.

They were all going to die. They were going to stop this stupid species feud but they were all going to die on that rock in the middle of the Atlantic.

“We will,” Altair said.

“Good,” then he sighed. “Now, I have to go talk to Od before he’s left to stew on this and becomes unreasonable.”

“What will you do if he refuses?” Altair asked.

“I’ll think of something,” Desmond said. “I always did.” With that he pulled his hood back up and left the room to go find _Ando_ Od.


	60. The Jeweled Crowned Pigeon

For the Ilythians, a people who prided themselves for their peaceful, pacifistic, nature, all they did was fight. It made up every point of their lives from their marriage ceremonies where the bride and groom would play fight with hollow sabers that made music as they danced, to friendships where being a regular sparring partner meant the two were best of friends. Even their worship was coded n their warrior nature. While they followed the religion of the Sixteen gods just like all other proeathans each race had their own way they went about it and decided their best way to show their dedication to the gods the faceless had given them.

For the Ilythians there were two times of worship. Once, that was private between individuals and their patron star, which they partook in every morning before breakfast, then again before dinner which involved the community. According to Ilythians who’d taught Desmond to fight in the _etji_ a _ð_ style before they had retreated to their cryo-chambers there had been great cathedrals built for the act of the great gatherings at dusk that filled with Ilythians and they moved through forms as a group. It was a meditation and a time for everyone in the community to come together as one.

Desmond found Od at dusk worship. It had just ended but people were still standing around, talking, teasing, making friends. It was a time everyone came together. The group here wasn’t all the Ilythians, but there were a few hundred in the garden they’d found that was lined with a nearly teal colored grass. Od was alone, standing straight and proud, head tipped upward, hands cupped in front of him. Everyone was giving their _Ando_ space, no one bothering him or needing his time now.

Od opened one eye when Desmond came and stood next to him, looking right at him. “ _Can I help you stadalla?”_ he asked, in English.

“ _What was that earlier? With the angels?”_

_“I do not wish to discuss it.”_

_“I’m sure. You still acted ridiculous. We need you for this attack.”_

Od opened both his eyes and looked at Desmond, “ _What do you know of what happened at Toba?”_

 _“Enough_ ,” Desmond shrugged.

“ _I saw it_ ,” Od said and Desmond’s eyes widened. “ _Eve the Destroyer brought her army, and the Hedren brought theirs and we were going to end this war. Instead she went into that construct and slaughtered us.”_

_“You knew Eve?”_

_“I was younger than, just a foot soldier, before I joined the Hedren I was part of the United Armies. My family did not agree. In the end it didn’t matter. My commander was killed in that event, so were my parents, my elder sister. You have not_ seen _what angels can do and you frivolously hand out that power like its a toy. Proeathans spend decades learning to master themselves. You have shared your culture with us as much as we have with you. There is a_ reason _angels fall in your religion. They are out of control, erupting like a super nova and destroying everything in its range.”_

 _“That won’t happen_ ,” Desmond said. “ _Its different now. I’m not going to the construct to blow it up.”_

_“Neither did Eve.”_

_“I’m not Eve. She was not a stadalla. I am.”_ Desmond met Od’s hard stare. “ _I need you.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Then you will send them to be slaughtered at the hands of the Adjatevs, but not go with my angels?”_

_“Better to be killed by enemies, than by friends,”_ Od said in a way Desmond knew it was a proverb.

“ _Why did you react so strongly to Anthony’s illusion of the storm?”_ Desmond asked. He knew the Ilythians didn’t like the rain. Whenever it had rained on the way to Chad they’d retreated into their numia and wouldn’t come out until it was over. After the rain there was a census taken in rapid order, to account for everyone. Desmond didn’t understand it, still didn’t really.

Od looked around and beckoned Desmond closer. _“Saturn would bring rain before she attacked when she was alive. First illusions, then stories say she learned to affect the pressure of the world around her and cause storms to roll in at her will. She is the luck of the eclipse for a reason, and in her wake there is shadows and darkness stretches across the land. Our pantheon is full of ill deeded gods but Saturn is the darkest, and the only star no proeathan is born under. Even I, born under Juno is preferable to the luck of being born under Saturn.”_

_“So, what? You can’t be born under Saturn?”_

_“You can be,”_ Od said slowly. “ _But her day is one out of the year. Many women would force delay or force labor their children to be born the day before or after to avoid it. Saturn is rain, and rain is destruction. Eve brought rain too. A false rain, but a rain all the same. The day she went into T’bkan she showed the United Armies a great thunder storm, with thunder and lightning and wet stained ground. Then she entered the construct. Then it_ exploded.”

Desmond breathed slowly, digesting all that. That was a pretty good reason for proeathans to be _petrified_ of rain storms. No doubt it had been incorporated into their religion just like anything else. “ _I see_ ,” he said. “ _We aren’t about to make rainstorms though. I have other things for our illusionists to do.”_

_“The answer is still no, Desmond.”_

_“You don’t trust me?”_ Od’s silence was enough. “ _That hurts me.”_

 _“I do what is best for my people,”_ Od said.

“But can we make our own decisions?” they both looked and saw Baldur standing there. Thor was behind her shoulder, looking horrified they were confronting their commander and _stadalla_.

“Hmm?” Od asked.

“I wish to fight by the _stadalla_ ’s side,” she said in Ilythian. “I wish to go with him to the atoll. I know there are others who do as well.”

“No,” Od said. “We are not going to the atoll.”

“We can make our own decisions, sir. I volunteered for the mission before, I volunteer now. I know others would as well.”

“There were like six hundred Ilythian volunteers,” Desmond said as a side note.

“And more besides them,” Baldur said quickly. “That was just the ones who had heard about it before the _Ando_ closed submissions. We want to help. We are tired of being listless and without a heading. Our people hunger for an end to this conflict.”

“You do not what you speak of girl. You will be fighting with angels at your side. Untrained, untested. They will act in ways you cannot even understand.”

“Then I will learn,” Baldur said bravely. “I am going to be sharing the Earth with them, I will learn.”

“You, nor anyone else is going to the atoll,” Od said, raising his voice just slightly in anger at being so disobeyed.

“Ando, please, reconsider,” Baldur said. Desmond looked around them, a huge mass of Ilythians were watching them all now, their intelligent yellow eyes keyed onto the discussion. Many conversations had died and they were listening to the _Ando_ talk to Baldur with the _stadalla_. Sounded like a bad sitcom.

“No,” Od said. “This has gone on long enough. We came here to help them take Atlantis. Working with angels is not something I will condone ever. Not after what they did.”

“Even if we want to help them?” Baldur pleaded.

“We are preparing for the siege on Atlantis. Now is not the time to split our forces,” he said giving both Baldur and Desmond a look.

“I disagree,” Baldur said.

“That is irrelevant. I am _Ando_ , you are a soldier. Fall in line.”

Baldur stared Od down. “No,” she said. “I don't agree and I will not sit and watch these people be slaughtered by our enemy.”

“You would disobey me?” Od growled and all movement and talking had stopped now. Everyone was staring at the two now.

“I would challenge you,” Baldur said. “You are unfit for the role of leader of Hedren with your conservative ideals.”

Od was taken aback by that. Desmond looked at Od in confusion. Could she _do_ that? Desmond knew that the leadership of the Ilythians was determined through fighting, much like everything else about their culture. Those below could directly challenge those above them if they disagreed with them enough. A challenge was issued and the two fought until one was either dead or surrendered. The loser was stripped of their rank and they had to reclimb the hierarchy ladder from the bottom.

“ _You_ issue challenge to _me_?” Od clarified, scandalized.

“I do,” Baldur said boldly. “The future is for those like me. It's time for the old to allow the next in line to progress before the cryo sickness kills us all.”

Of appraised Baldur and then looked at Desmond. _“You did this?”_ he asked in English.

 _“I'm just as surprised as you, honest,”_ Desmond said.

 _“No one asked me. I challenge you of my own free will,”_ Baldur said.

“I accept,” Od said, switching back to his native tongue. Desmond got the feeling he couldn't have declined. To do so would have been a sign of weakness. “As you are the challenger you may pick where we will fight.”

“Here. Now.” Desmond had to hand it to her, Baldur was absolutely fearless.

Od’s mouth went a bit thin. “Very well. Prepare yourself, we will challenge in a single _lethogun_ ,” he said. A lethogun was an Ilythian word for a period of time that was about eight minutes of human time and was considered the appropriate amount of time one should take to warm up before a fight.

“Fine,” Baldur said and walked off to warm up and stretch. Thor followed behind her, wide eyed in absolute terror and awe.

“You're actually doing this. I'm surprised,” Desmond said.

“I have no choice,” Od said quietly. “If I refused I am not fit to lead.” He looked at Desmond and Desmond was surprised when he grabbed Desmond’s shoulder, making Desmond look at her. _“I will not surrender,_ ” he told Desmond, yellow eyes intent and fierce. _“If I lose, I am trusting you to make sure she does not get twisted by the rest of us.”_

“What? Od, you can't be serious,” Desmond said, so startled he didn’t even switch back to English.

 _“I am very serious, stadalla. I will win this fight, or she will kill me. The young ones think it is easy to lead. They don't understand the sacrifices, the politics of this entire thing. Baldur is a nice girl, idealistic, that's why she joined the Hedren. Idealism will only get you so far though. If I_ do _lose, protect her from those among us who would make her into something else.”_

 _“Od, your people need you, you can't just_ die _. Can't you beat her?_ ” Desmond asked.

 _“No Ilythian underestimates their enemy. To do so is to invite death to your heart. But I am not so foolish as to think that the cryo sickness has not already started to affect my old bones and will make me weaker than I once was. I do not intend to just_ die _but I must entertain the possibility and it's so sudden I have no time to make plans to make sure Inti and Zorya can protect her should I fall. They know what must be done but it will be reactive. I ask you to be proactive. If Baldur wins she will be swarmed by people and they will want to know things, they will demand things of her immediately, and she is young. She will make rash decisions quickly to satisfy the crowd. Do not allow her to.”_

 _“I don't want you to die, Od,_ ” Desmond said.

“Than pray. Now I must prepare. The _lethogun_ is almost over.”

“Win,” Desmond said.

“That is the hope every challenge we face, stadalla, that we win. I am proud to have sparred with you, my friend,” Od said and squeezed Desmond's hand. Desmond shifted the grip to grab his arm firmly.

“We will spar again,” Desmond promised, squeezing Od’s arm.

“I hope so,” Od said in nearly a whisper. Desmond frowned up at him. Od had worry in his eyes. He was confidant that Baldur would not win, but he was wary. He feared he would fall here, the cryo sickness making him weaker than he expected, weaker than Baldur. Then Od’s eyes cleared and there was no fear. He left Desmond to take the rest of the _lethogun_ to prepare himself.


	61. The Sharp Edge of the Cliff

It was sort of surreal. Od and Baldur were going to fight for leadership of the Hedren people. For one of them it would be a fight to the death. Desmond was sort of terrified. He liked Baldur fine but Od was right. She was young. She didn't know how to lead. Od understood the weight of leadership. And at the moment he could die. Like he could really die. Desmond had seen Baldur fight with her companions and during the volunteer stage of the atoll mission. She was good. As good as Od? Desmond prayed not.

The _lethogun_ finished and the two stood across from each other. Demeter had created a ring of light in the floor that would be their arena. They both had removed their shirts, shoes, and everything except for their pants. Desmond cocked his head at the two of them. He'd expected Baldur to wear a compression shirt or something for her breasts but she didn't have any. Shirtless the two looked very the same, angular faces and sharp features with straight noses and piercing yellow eyes. What had been Desmond’s thought when he's first met Baldur, that that had been the name of a male Norse god? No one seemed surprised by Baldur’s lack of breasts either, except Desmond. Not that it was a big deal he'd just had other expectations, especially since Zorya _did_ have breasts. Well, lesson learned.

Pluto appeared on the other side of the ring as Desmond. He was dressed similarly to the two combatants as in, half dressed. His blonde hair was wild now though and he looked ready for a fight himself. “As the still highest ranked official in the ark I will oversee this challenge. I am well aware of the rules of Ilythian promotions. Baldur Sabbr has issued challenge to _Ando_ Od Sighted of the Hedren people via a trial by combat for command of the Hedren people. Victory will be determined by a single round of battle until one combatant begs for mercy to be stripped of their rank henceforth without an option of repeal _or_ one combatant is killed. There will be no time limit, nor may one combatant request reprieve in the middle. Weapons are forbidden. Use of the sixth sense is permitted so long as the use of the ancient art of _hodori_ or any abilities like it are not. Breaking of such rules will trigger an automatic loss and the blinding of one eye as punishment. Do the combatants have any questions as to the rules of this trial?” Od and Baldur both shook their heads. “Prepare. When you hear the tone the challenge will begin.”

Od and Baldur readied themselves, each taking a different stance. Desmond knew there were four different starting stances of a challenge, they'd been shown to him when he's learned etjiað, one aggressive and defensive for both men and women that benefitted their usual body types. Od took a defensive masculine stance developed for higher command warriors who has to defend their titles but did not have to prove themselves and he looked like a blocking boxer. Baldur took an aggressive masculine stance, her hands up in front of her like a pair of knives. Both their eyes turned blue.

“On the tone,” Pluto announced and the assembled crowd was silent, watching with anticipation as the young upstart challenged their leader. Ten seconds passed and the lights flared up once, dimmed, flared again and then on the third the brightening lights were accompanied by a bell tone.

Baldur flew and crashed into Od feet first. Od deflected and tried to send Baldur to the floor. It didn’t work and she just absorbed the fall and was back up with a great swinging kick aimed at Od’s temple. Od blocked but didn’t bother to attack. Baldur jumped towards Od, kicking him repeatedly with crisp movements that made her hop a little forward each time so she kept in range. Why wasn’t Od attacking? Baldur had victory in her eyes and she wouldn’t stop. Desmond hoped she would but wishes were useless here.

Then, nearly too fast to see, Od grabbed Baldur’s ankle and pushed her entire leg up, lifting her up off her planted foot. No one missed the surprise on Baldur’s face as she went ass over elbow and sprawled onto the ground. Od jumped after her, a stomp aimed at her neck but she rolled away, hopping to her feet and _right_ into a spectacular roundhouse kick right to the face she hadn’t seen coming.

Baldur was thrown to the ground with a thump and Desmond let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Od could beat Baldur. Everything would be okay, right? Seemed like it. Od just had to get Baldur to surrender and they could stop this stupid fighting.

Od stepped over to her lightly, wary. He jumped back a second before she swung around and hoisted her entire body up on her arms to kick upwards and diagonally. Her heel would have been exactly where Od’s sternum would have been had he not moved.

This entire thing was going to give Desmond some seriously high blood pressure. He hated having to watch this but there wasn't anything he could do. This was a sacred rite and who knew what would happen if he stepped in if things went too far.

The next bought was the two of them jumping around one another. They weren't even reacting to each other so much as they were reacting to what they could see in the two or so seconds in the future. A punch would be half thrown or someone would dodge a shadow kick and they'd pull back. The trick when two fighters both had combat future sight was you had to be unpredictable. If you weren't the future was set and you'd move in ways the enemy knew. As such etjiað could appear very erratic and even chaotic. But for a people who gained reputation by fighting and who could also directly see their opponent’s next move it paid to more in chaotic and erratic ways so they couldn’t foresee what you’d do.

The cat and mouse continued for a bit before Baldur got fed up with it and just rushed Od again. Bad idea. Od was ready for her and when Baldur struck Od was there to move with her and in accepting the blow he could redirect it and her and basically threw her across the ring onto the floor. The crowd moved back from the downed fighter, touching her could influence the fight and she lay on the floor, breathing hard.

Od took a running jump and Baldur looked up to see Od about to slam into her chest. She twisted away but he managed to catch her leg and they all heard the definitive noise of a knee snapping. Baldur screamed and hunched over. “Just concede,” Od said above her, sounding like he’d hated to have done that, “and we will tend to your injury.”

She steadied her breathing before looking up at him. And to not just Desmond’s surprise but also everyone else’s Baldur swung her _broken leg_ with tremendous force. Od’s legs fell out from under him and he crashed to the floor next to her. Baldur was a mask of agony and before Od could stop her Baldur had crawled over to him and pinned him. Once you got an Ilythian on the ground it was game over for them. Taking away their ability to get airborne crippled them. Etjiað had few holds and just expected its people to not _get_ into holds breaking out of them was also not well taught.

Baldur punched Od right in the face. He grabbed at her to get her off but she punched him again, and again. Od tried to shield his face but she just started punching the rest of him. His sides, his arms, his shoulders and chest, pummeling him into the ground while a shocked and probably horrified group of Ilythians watched. At least Desmond thought they were horrified. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Baldur and Od to even check.

Before too long Baldur had turned Od into a bleeding heap. His face was heavily swollen and he was bleeding from all over his face. His entire body was bruised and blue from Baldur’s fists. She’d broken at least one rib and probably cracked a few more.

Finally, when he no longer fought back Baldur relented and sat back, breathing hard, sweat standing out on her dark skin. “Concede,” she said thickly, like she was about to break down into tears, “and we will tend to your injuries.” She was begging him here.

Desmond looked at Od, beaten as he was, and even from here he knew the proud Ilythian would do no such thing. “No,” Od said and reached up through the pain and grabbed at her face. It was painful to watch as she pushed his hand down but he reached up again. Desmond saw Od say something again but what it was was too quiet to hear. Judging by Baldur’s suddenly stricken face Desmond could guess what Od had said. Kill him. He would not surrender, if she wanted to be leader to much she would only do so once he was dead. There were only two ways a challenge could end. Forfeit, or death. Even if someone fell unconscious they would _wait_ until they’d regained conciseness, ask if they wished to continue, and if so the fight would continue.

Finally Desmond looked around at the crowd. They were all silent, monolithic, but they were not horrified. If anything they looked _expectant_. They expected Baldur to claim her victory with Od’s life. It wasn’t even that they might have liked or disliked Od. This was their way, their culture, and they lived and died by their ability to stand up and fight. If their old leader could no longer fight he was better dead, but if the new one didn’t have the conviction to kill then they were hardly better. Peace, through any means. Even death, even violence, so far as the many did not suffer. One death, to save thousands. That was the way of the Ilythians.

No friendly or understanding faces met Baldur’s when she looked around. She saw the looks they had. Kill him. She looked back down at Od who was having a hard time breathing now. Anyone could see this wasn’t a kind death. It would be brutal, terrible and traumatic for both parties. Baldur would never forget her first victory.

Baldur reached down and wrapped her hands around Od’s throat. Maybe she thought it was a kinder death. Od’s hands came up to fight her off but he was too weak now. Desmond watched his face start to darken as blood became trapped in his head. Od was going to die.

Od was going to _die_.

Desmond didn’t realize what he was doing till we was doing it. Lilith had taught him how to channel the fine ability of deflecting photons through telekinesis. He was a telekinetic, but had never really worked that muscle before.

His eyes went black and like a pair of hands had grabbed Baldur’s shoulders he yanked her off Od. “Enough!” he called and strode into the ring. The Ilythians stood there in shock and awe. Desmond hadn’t even touched Baldur, hadn’t even been near her. On the ground Od wheezed as he could breathe again and Baldur was clutching her leg, sobbing silently, her knee bent the wrong way.

“Desmond,” Pluto said slowly in English, “what are you doing?”

“This is enough,” Desmond said and addressed the crowd, his eyes black as the deepest parts of the void of space.

“You dare interfere, human?” one Ilythian asked from the crowd.

“Human?” Desmond asked, scandalized. “You speak of me like I am _human_? I am the _stadalla_ , I am the Seventeenth, I am the avatar of the Unnamed; I am a fucking _god_. So yes I dare to interfere. Who will stop me?” he challenged. No one did. His heart was pounding. Well, better late than never to accept your fate he supposed.

“There must be a winner,” Pluto said.

“Alright, how about I win?” Desmond asked.

“That isn’t-

“Do you surrender?” he asked Od, looking down at him.

Od blinked at him, not understanding what he was doing, or maybe he did. At least one of them knew what Desmond was doing because right now he was just kinda winging it. “To you, _stadalla_ ,” he whispered.

“And you, girl, do you surrender?” he asked Baldur who was still holding her leg.

She took a shaky breath. “I—“ she paused, unsure.

“Unlike you I don’t have a problem killing someone,” Desmond said and everyone took a step back, pressing up against the Ilythian behind them when Desmond held his fist out to her and the smart material formed into a wicked looking knife. “You’re a nice girl, Baldur, but I will kill you if you don’t surrender. I don’t think you want to die today.”

“I surrender,” she choked out, half sobbing.

“Then I win,” Desmond proclaimed. “I’m not an Ilythian, but I am your _stadalla_ , and your _Ando_ and his challenger have submitted before me.”

“I believe that makes _you_ _Ando_ now,” Pluto said.

“Sweet,” Desmond said, hoping against hope his insecurity wasn’t coming through. He was doing this by the skin of his teeth and making shit up as he went along. “Now what?”

“Upon winning a challenge fight it is customary to select your _sengars_ ,” Pluto said. “Your second in commands.”

“Alright,” Desmond said. “I select Od Sighted and Baldur Sabbr as my _sengars_ , effective immediately.”

“Is this real?” someone asked.

“I hope so, cause I’d really hate to actually lose a guy like Od over something stupid like this,” Desmond said. “By the laws of your challenge trials I have claimed victory. I don’t expect celebrating, I know you aren’t happy. Tough shit really. I’m not happy either. Not happy it had to come to this I had to step in like this. I’d hoped you would have come around on your own like Hedren had done before.

“Nothing will change,” he continued. “I’m not asking for your trust, or love or respect. I just demand you obey. Od and Baldur will be your leaders in every way and other than Od being _Sengar_ now he will be as before. Is that understood?” No one spoke out. “Great. Demeter, I want you to broadcast this entire event to the rest of the Hedren. Now someone for the love of god come help Od and Baldur to the medical bay so they can get healed up.” With that he put away his knife and stepped away from Od.

Ilythians came forward and picked Od up carefully. The former _Ando_ grit his teeth against the pain as they carried him away. Thor and a few others came to help Baldur. Baldur refused to be carried and managed to limp out of the room.

Desmond didn’t stay. He left before the Ilythians could turn to him or run in terror that he’d made himself the highest ranked officer of the Hedren. What a backwards turn of events.

“Pluto,” he said, switching back to English, as he walked, yanking his hood up to hide himself.

“Yes?”

“How bad I fuck up just then?” Desmond asked, ducking into a lift. Pluto didn’t answer right away. “Pretty bad then, _great_ ,” he said sarcastically.

“It could have been worse,” Pluto said. “I did not expect you to claim your godhood. Usually you hate when we bring it up.”

“Yeah well I needed the Ilythians to accept me, I figure that’d do it.”

“Oh yes,” Pluto said.

“Desmond, Od and Baldur have made it to my medical bay. Shall I keep you updated on their recovery?”

“Yes. Please. How long will it take?”

“Baldur a few hours, Od will take a day or two.”

“Great, fantastic. Contact Inti and Zorya, tell them to get to the medical bay twenty minutes ago.”

“Of course,” Demeter said.

“Well, you have your army now,” Artemis said.

“Yeah… crap. Craaaap.”

“What?” Pluto asked.

“I have to go tell everyone what I did. I’m going to get so many lumps!” he complained. He could just imagine Cain’s disapproving stare and Altair’s stern annoyance and Ezio’s shocked disapproval. Wonderful. He couldn’t wait.


	62. Broken Wing

“You did _what_?” Lucy asked when Desmond told her.

“I… might have become the leader of the Ilythians,” he said awkwardly.

She and Jake stared at him. “Have you lost your fucking _mind_ , bro?” Jake asked.

“No. Not this week at least. Look it was that or Od would die okay!? I couldn’t just let him get killed like that,” Desmond whined.

“So instead you just made yourself their leader,” Lucy huffed.

“Well… yeah.”

“Aren’t you tired of being the boy wonder?” Jake asked.

“Trust me. I am,” Desmond huffed. “I just… couldn’t let him die. I need him.”

“While it’s admirable you saved his life Desmond, I don’t think it was a very good idea,” Cain said.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I agree with Cain,” Altair said.

“Awww, look at that-

“Hey! Play nice Altair,” Jake and Desmond snapped at nearly the same time when Altair punched Cain harder in the arm than ‘playfully’.

“So… what now?” Ezio asked.

“Now I have the proeathans I need to back up my angel force to take the atoll,” Desmond said. “It won’t be a lot of them. I need most of them ready to fly to Atlantis, but enough so that we don’t get overrun.”

“Well you’ll still get overrun,” Cain said. “Unless you matched their numbers.”

“Which I _could_ do,” Desmond said. “There are only like three thousand proeathans there.”

“And leave us out three thousand when taking Atlantis?” Ezio asked.

“What do you plan to _do_ at the atoll anyway?” Cain asked. “You don’t even know what it can do.”

“Neither do the proeathans. They just know that I went there and a _continent_ rose up from the bottom of the ocean. A continent that has been invisible for tens of thousands of years. They don’t know what it can do and they’re scared. I don’t know what it can do, but I don’t need to. I can make it do _something_. Even if its just a distraction so we can create a beach head on Atlantis and not just get slaughtered. Best case scenario I can distract the proeathans with it. Make them more worried about what I’m doing at the atoll than they’re worried about us attacking Atlantis,” Desmond said.

“Even if its nothing?” Jake asked.

“At this point its better than nothing. I do something or we’re worm food. The proeathans will slaughter us when we try to land on Atlantis.”

“He’s got a point,” Hawk admitted. “I’ve run some calculations based on some spy flights Od did for us before you showed up Desmond, and they have roughly three quarters of their soldiers located in Atlantis. The rest are across the globe. They are dug in _deep_ in Atlantis and we will be slaughtered without _something_ to help us. They scattered and freaked out pretty quickly when you caused that global energy fluctuation when you rose Atlantis. They scrambled numia and ships and practically _raced_ to the atoll to see if they could find you. I assume by then you were gone?”

“I was,” Desmond nodded.

“Barely made it to the main land,” Artemis put in.

“Yes thank you Artemis.”

“We told you not to touch the counsel except where we told you.”

“ _Thank you_ , Artemis,” Desmond growled. Artemis just laughed her sweet teenage girl laugh but said no more. “So now the plan is weaponize the angels we have, and start training Ilythians with them so they know how to best protect them.”

“And get them over the fact that they’re angels,” Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, that too,” Desmond said. “Its October eighth now. The end of the proeathan harvest is in twenty-three days, give or take.”

“Can you do that in twenty-three days?” Altair asked.

“Well we better fucking hope so. Maybe I can even get it done in less.”

“And what about if it takes longer?” Ezio asked the question they all had but didn’t want to ask.

“Well. Growing season doesn’t just _end_. Hopefully we’ll have a few days grace before they start sending out blanket numia searches for me and Demeter,” Desmond nodded a little. “That’s the hope at least.”

“And hope the angels can learn to use their abilities aggressively,” Altair said.

“You got a lot riding on hope, Desmond,” Jake said.

“Yeah, and?” he asked. “I’m like a hope generating machine at this point, cause if not me, than who?”

“Eh, good point,” Cain shrugged.

“Exactly, I make those sometimes,” Desmond said.

“And what do you want us to do while you work on your angels?” Ezio asked.

“Keep your men sharp. They’re all going into hell at the end of October. And I do mean hell,” he sighed a little. “Make sure they’re as ready as you can make them, cause we’re only going to get one shot at this. Now…” he sighed again. “I have to go see my _sengars_. God, that sounds so fucking weird,” he whined.

“You did this to yourself,” Altair said mildly.

“Don’t remind me. We all on the same page?”

Everyone nodded. “What about the Assassins?” Clay, who’d been quietly listening the entire time, asked.

“What about them?”

“You going to tell them?”

Desmond squinted at Clay, knowing what he was getting at. “No,” he said. Clay just shrugged but didn’t push the subject. “Alright, if you need me, tell one of the AI, I’ll come find you. Till then, meeting adjourned,” he said. They nodded and Desmond left them all there and went to the med bay.

Six proeathans stood outside the med bay, looking mean and intimidating. No one was allowed in. “ _Ando_ ,” they said, bowing their heads in respect and stepping out of the way of the door so Desmond could go in. Well that was officially fucking surreal. Desmond just nodded as them and went in.

Baldur and Od were still in there. Od was in one of the healing pods that just looking at made Desmond’s entire being want to break down into a panic attack. They looked a lot like the pods he’d been locked up in by the Adjatevs. Od’s eyes were closed and he seemed at rest, a mask covered most of his face. Baldur was in a sitting position, her entire lower half inside a strange device that Desmond assumed was healing her leg. In front of her were Inti and Zorya, talking to her seriously in Ilythian and sitting in a chair off to the side was Thor. When the door opened they stopped talking and looked towards Desmond.

“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly as the door clicked shut behind him.

“That was foolish,” Zorya said.

“Probably.”

“Had you been anything less than the _stadalla_ and our people would have torn you to shreds for interfering with the sacred rite of promotion.”

“Well thank goodness I am or Od would be dead,” Desmond said.

“He would have wanted to be dead if he could not win,” Zorya sniffed at him. “You have shamed him.”

“Look,” Desmond said, “tough shit. He’s alive, and I need him, because he’s good at his job. Now are you going to make my job easier or not? Cause those scary Ilythians out there know I’m _Ando_. Do you?”

She narrowed her cat eyes at him. “You may be _Ando_ , but you know nothing of our ways, _stadalla_.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s why I need you two, and Baldur, and Od; alive and working with me and not against me. Otherwise I’m going to get the Hegren all killed. You don’t want that do you?”

Zorya pursed her lips at him. “We are willing to listen, _stadalla_ ,” Inti said in his laborious accent. “Zorya is just concerned.”

“I can see that. So am I. I don’t want to be _Ando_ , but I am. Now then, Demeter, how are my _sengars_ coming along?” he asked, putting his hands behind his back. Baldur blushed a little when he said that, though it was hard to see against her dark skin.

“Od suffered significant damage to his internals. Bruises on his major organs and three broken ribs and a slightly fractured skull.”

“I’m sorry,” Baldur said. “I didn’t… mean to.”

“I know,” Desmond assured her. “And her?”

“Her knee shattered and broke her fibula and tibia when she made the stupid decision to use it to kick Od. It will take the rest of the day to mend. Od will be up and about tomorrow night,” Demeter finished her report.

Desmond stood there a moment. “Amazing,” he said at last. “It’d take humans weeks to recover from a shattered knee and probably never fully recover for Od. That is amazing. Well good, game plan time. Zorya, Inti, how have the Ilythians responded?”

“Some are furious, some are in shock, some are having break downs as we speak,” Zorya said. “The especially devout are taking it as a sign that we are on the right path.”

“And those that aren’t?” Desmond asked.

“They say we invite death among the ranks.”

Desmond snorted, “Well, they aren’t wrong. Regardless, they will follow?”

“They are all loyal to the cause. We are all Hedren and abhor what the Adjatevs are doing. Some do not like it, but they will get over it.”

“So they’ll listen when I give orders?”

Zorya winced, “Yes.”

“But best to have Baldur and Od give the orders yeah?”

“Probably for the best,” Zorya nodded.

“Great,” Desmond said, rubbing his hands together. “Well. I’m sure you and Into will be closely monitoring Od’s recovery. Once he’s up and about he’ll resume his normal duties as leader of the Ilythians, just as a _sengar_ , but I give him full power and authority to do what he needs to do for the good of his people.”

“Of course.”

“And as for you,” he turned to Baldur who looked very uncomfortable. “You’re going to be fighting with angels.”

“Angels?” Baldur asked.

“Yeap. I need an army that’s coming with me to the atoll. They’re going to be fighting with my angels.”

“Uh… sorry sir but I don’t know what an angel is. I was a non combatant during the First War,” she said awkwardly.

“Well, they look like this,” Desmond said and expanded his sight. Zorya and Inti both leaned back and Baldur looked _extremely_ uncomfortable. Thor was so freaked out he turned his chair over when he stood. “No need for that,” Desmond told Thor. “An angel is a human psychic.”

“Those exist?” Baldur asked.

“Oh yes,” Desmond smiled widely. “And they are _marvelous_.”

“They are far from that,” Zorya said.

Desmond’s eyes turned blue in an instant, “Be quiet Zorya,” he said, glaring. “I will not hear a bad word about my species from you _keens_ again. Understood?” he asked. He didn’t know how or even if he was doing it right, but he was _pretty sure_ he was using _hodori_ right then. Made sense that if humans could do such things with the e’dn that the same ideas could be used for _hodori_ and Desmond had been subconsciously using manipulative e’dn for years without realizing it. Once he realized it it was surprisingly easy to realize it and then make the switch over the sixth sense. His eyes went back to normal. “Our species evolved similar lines, they just have different abilities. They are not _lesser_ and they are not abominable. I’m _Ando_ now and I hear you bad mouth my angels I’ll just throw you out of my council. How about that?”

Zorya narrowed her eyes. “You do not have that authority,” she said.

“Well if push came to shove I’d just kill you,” Desmond threatened. “Now shut up, shape up, and stop being such a fucking bigot. You’ll go further in life than just wanting to free your human livestock like a militant vegan.” Zorya had nothing to say to that. “Now then, Baldur,” he turned back to Baldur, more upbeat than his verbal abuse he’d just given Zorya. “I need an army, small army. We’re attacking the atoll, and you’ll be fighting with us humans.”

“And what will they be doing?” she asked slowly.

“Hopefully, shit like throwing fire balls and blinding people and if we’re _really_ lucky our telekinetics will be able to lift larger things and throw them at people. I think one of our angels is an electrokinetic but right now all he can do is make some serious static build up but maybe by the time we get going it’ll be actual lightning. They’ll be doing stuff you can’t and really you’re just going to be the vanguard so the angels can work to, if nothing else, send them all running with their tails between their legs.”

Baldur’s eyes were huge. “They can do that?” Thor asked.

“Oh yeah,” Desmond nodded.

“But I thought telekinesis was impossible.”

“It isn’t,” Baldur said. “Desmond used it… on me. So I wouldn’t kill _Ando_ \- I mean _sengar_ Od,” she said.

“Mhmm,” Desmond nodded again. “Everything you find hard, or impossible, or that only one in a billion proeathan can do; we can do. We can’t do what you do. Different skill sets, and the proeathans, especially the Adjatevs, are terrified of ours.”

“But you’ll never make landfall without backup,” Baldur said.

“ _Proeathan_ backup,” Desmond said. “So I want you to find me those volunteers you said there were hundreds of. We start training you all with the angels the day after tomorrow.”

“Like we did before?” Baldur asked.

“Not at all. We aren’t working together. In fact I don’t care if you don’t even work together before the assault. All I care about is that they will, one hundred percent, not allow a single enemy proeathan through their front lines and at our vulnerable angels. None of them are soldiers, Baldur. They’re just people who can more easily access their gifts than others. If even _one_ enemy soldier gets through your line, we’re done. That is what we’re training for. Protect the humans.”

“And I assume kill the Adjatevs?” Thor asked.

“Oh yes. Kill all the Adjatevs you want,” Desmond said mirthlessly. “How’s that sound?” he asked Baldur. Zorya and Inti just looked on disapprovingly.

Baldur looked at the two old _sengars_ , then up at Desmond. “I think I’ll be able to find us _plenty_ of volunteers to kill some Adjatevs,” she said. Desmond smiled and she smiled back. Alright. Good plan.


	63. Old Birds New Tricks

Lessons with Lilith always made Desmond a bit disorientated when he woke up again. Lucy was with the other angels, training them, and Baldur and Od were with his proeathan army, training them to be guards. So Desmond was alone when he came to. Or he thought he was. When he sat up he found himself facing his ancestors, all of them sitting opposite him. “Uh.. Hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Demeter says its dangerous to spend so much time in a vessel,” Hawk said.

“I can handle it,” Desmond said and stretched. “Way easier on my mind than hours stuck in an Animus,” he added. “So what’s up?” he asked, grabbing his ankles.

The three of them traded looks. “We want to be a part of this. We’re able to use eagle vision-

“But you want to know if you can use the E’dn?” Desmond finished for Altair. They all nodded. “I don’t know. We’ll ask,” he picked up Lilith’s Chalice.

“What is that?” Ezio asked.

“A Chalice. It ‘eats luck’ or whatever.”

“Eats luck?”

“Proeathans just talk into it and it makes them feel better like when you confess to a priest,” Desmond said and filled it from the tank Demeter had sitting there. “Lilith should be able to tell if you’re angel material without drawing you in.” The three of them got up.

“What do we have to do?” Altair asked.

“Hold out your hands, palms up,” Desmond said. They did. Desmond expanded his senses. This was a test for him. He had done the rough control of large things when he’d yanked Baldur off Od a few days ago but it had been a spur of the moment. This time he was going to try something deliberate and not just the super fine precision it took to light bend. He set the Chalice down midair between him and his ancestors. The goblet wobbled a little, spilling some of the water but Desmond concentrated and it held still.

“Are you doing that?” Altair asked.

“Yeah,” Desmond said, and looked at them with a smile. He imagined it had to look pretty freaky with his black eyes. “I’m practicing, and Lilith is teaching me. Now lets see,” he moved his hand and the band became a short little knife. He nicked the tip of his finger and let the blood drip into the goblet.

“Back again so soon, Desmond,” Lilith’s voice was silky as she appeared in the water. “I thought our session was over for the day.”

“I have some would-be angels. They want to know if they can use the e’dn.”

“All humans can use the e’dn,” Lilith said.

“Yeah but they can use an angel _sikaz_ so I dunno if they’re able.”

“Hmmm,” she said pensively. “Let us see then,” and she held her hand out to the very edge of the water.

“So what do we do?” Ezio asked.

Desmond reached over and took Ezio’s wrist. “Let her taste your blood.” He cut Ezio’s finger and held it over the goblet. A few fat drop landed right on the image of Lilith’s outstretched hand and she closed her fist around them. Desmond released Ezio’s hand and Ezio pressed his thumb to the cut, applying pressure to it. “So Lilith?” he asked.

“Faint, but I think there is a possibility,” she said. “From what you have told me your kind tried for his sort of ability. He is very well bred. Heh, the proeathans would have loved him before the end of the First War. Strong proeathan blood and ability to use their _sikaz_.”

“So… I can’t?” Ezio asked.

“You are human aren’t you?” she asked smartly.

“Yes?” Ezio was unsure himself at this point.

“Then you can. Though to what effectiveness I do not know. It might be very difficult for you.”

“I see,” Ezio said gravely.

“Me next,” Altair said and unsheathed his hidden blade and cut open his own finger. A thin stream of plopped into the goblet, turning the pale pink water a distinct red color before Altair put pressure on it to stem the blood flow.

“Hmm,” Lilith seemed surprised by this. “You are surprisingly pure,” she said. “Far more so than the other one. Who were your parents?”

“My father was a warrior, I didn’t know my mother,” Altair said.

“Well, somewhere in your lineage your forefathers had a strong line of angels. But the _sikaz_ are strong with you too, isn’t it?”

“You could say that,” Altair allowed.

“Have you ever found yourself able to sense things others couldn’t? Such as when you slept?”

“Not particularly. I did have contact with a vessel for… many years. It allowed me to do things others couldn’t-

“Are you Altair?” Lilith cut him off.

“Uh… yes?” Altair glanced at Desmond.

“If I had a body I would beat you to an inch of your life _fool_. This is all your fault-

“Yeah yeah. Been yelled at about this already, you’re a bit too late for it old lady,” Altair growled.

Lilith just had to exist there in impotent fury without a body. “Desmond, please slap him for me.”

“Lilith if I thought I could get away with it I would have by now,” Desmond said patiently.

“Watch it,” Altair growled at him. “And well, am I good enough to do other things?” he demanded.

“What did you do with the vessel?” she asked shortly.

“Future see mainly,” Altair said. “And control.”

“Disgusting. Do not teach yourself the e’dn. You sound like a-

“A what?” Altair asked. There were too many consonants in a row in that word.

“It is a word that means ‘lover of proeathans’.”

“Hey now. No need to be a bitch to me. I hate proeathans.”

“Control through the e’dn is an abomination. If that is your natural talent than do not foster it. Learn to scry without a vessel and become a guide to other angels to direct their minds towards the image of a true future. Perhaps it will teach you something about the shape of the future and we will not have _mistakes_ like this again.”

“ _What the fuck is her problem? Is she this bitchy all the time?”_ Altair asked Desmond in Arabic.

 _“Well she is a demon_ ,” Desmond just shrugged. Altair just turned away, folding his arms and sulking. “Okay Hawk, your turn.”

“Do it,” Hawk held out his hand and Desmond nicked his thumb. Hawk let a few fat drops land in the water.

Lilith said nothing for a long time. “Lilith?” Desmond asked.

To his immense surprise she opened her eyes. She only did that when she was surprised. Her eyes were black either. Behind the black of her angel sight her eyes were pretty brown in hue and they looked in Hawk’s direction. “What happened to you?” she asked him. “You’re so… damaged.”

“A vessel happened to me,” Hawk pulled out his Apple and put it next to the Chalice. They both began to glow and their lights played off against one another. Then the Apple dimmed and Hawk brought it back to him.

“As you are now, you’re hopeless,” Lilith said. “I’m amazed you’re alive. That should… should have killed you. I’m so sorry. There is nothing that can be done, and the e’dn and _sikaz_ should be impossible for you.”

“I can use eagle vision,” Hawk said.

“With difficulty?”

“Sometimes,” Hawk said. “And some angel powers with the help of the Apple.”

“Yes. I would think so. I don’t even know what to tell you just that… I am sorry. I hope you are freed one day, both of you are.”

“What?” Hawk asked but Lilith’s visage had faded. “Desmond, what did she mean? Bring her back,” Hawk said and stood over the Chalice, looking into it.

“Lilith,” Desmond said. She didn’t reappear. “Lilith I know you can hear me. Come back.” He let himself bleed into her a bit but she refused to show herself. “Sorry Hawk. I can’t. She’s being stubborn and I can only do so much to make her do as I want,” Desmond said helplessly.

Hawk looked at the Chalice and to everyone’s surprise grabbed it out of the air and hurled it across the garden. “Hawk!” Ezio cried but Hawk just stalked off, clutching his Apple in his other hand. “Yikes. What the hell?” Ezio looked between Altair and Desmond.

“Lilith had no good news for him,” Desmond said. He held his hand out towards where Hawk had thrown Lilith and it took a second or two but the Chalice lifted up off the ground and flew back into his hand. His eyes returned to normal.

“Well she wasn’t exactly helpful the entire time,” Altair was still sulking.

“She just told you what you wanted to know and offered insight to what we didn’t know,” Desmond said. “Though are you really that surprised?”

“Not really,” Ezio said. “My family always had a good pedigree.”

“Once you learned about it,” Altair grunted.

“Yeah,” Ezio said.

“I doubt I get the ‘angel’ from Umar. He wasn’t special,” Altair said.

“Too bad you never knew your mother,” Desmond said.

Altair shrugged, “It doesn’t matter that much. It was a thousand years ago, or just about.” Then he sighed, “But at least we know now. I asked Jake if he wanted to come.”

“What’d he say?”

Ezio snorted even as Altair said, “He said ‘I got enough problems with this old fart in my head. I don’t want any psychic bullshit to deal with either.’”

Desmond laughed, “Yeah that sounds like him,” he agreed.

“How are you doing with your psychic… things?” Altair asked awkwardly.

“Cool, watch this,” Desmond said and his eyes went black and they were transported from the ark to New York City. His ancestors looked around in wonder. Desmond could replicate sight, sounds, and even smells. Lilith said most illusionists could do one of the three but rarely all three. She hadn’t been surprised Desmond could do all three either.

“This is amazing, Desmond,” Altair said.

“Thanks. And I’m trying to teach myself this part,” he closed his eyes and the illusion faded out. It took a lot of concentration for Desmond to do what he did next. His feet lifted up off the grass and he levitated a few inches above the ground. It lasted only a few seconds before he dropped down. When he opened his eyes again Ezio and Altair were staring at him open mouthed. “Pretty cool huh?” he asked, beaming.

“You can levitate?” Altair demanded.

“Well, not quite. I’m still working out the kinks. Lilith says I’m weird that I can manipulate photons with greater ease than bigger things,” he chuckled. “Usually for telekinetics its the other way around.”

“Manipulate photons?” Ezio asked.

“Yeah, like this,” Desmond smirked and expanded his eyes again. It took him hardly any focus to deflect light from hitting Ezio and effectively turned him invisible.

“Holy shit! How are you doing this?” Ezio’s disembodied voice asked.

“Telekinesis where I redirect photos from hitting a surface, you, and letting them enter a lens, my eye, and Altair’s eye,” Desmond said. “Lilith says its really hard. I think its easy now,” Desmond made himself invisible too. “Excellent party trick. Or if you want to sneak into a girl’s locker room.”

“Yeah, you were born in the eighties,” Altair said dryly, “Only guys growing up in the nineties would say shit like that.” Desmond laughed.

“Well, that’s enough fun for one day,” Desmond said and put Lilith into the tank of salt water. She liked it in there as it simulated an actual brain and allowed Lilith to extend herself a bit beyond her metal form. “I’m starving.”

“Well it is lunch time,” Ezio agreed.

“Great timing then. Lets go get some grub, then I gotta go check in on Lucy and Baldur, see how my favorite girls are coming along with their little armies,” Desmond said cheerfully.

“Des,” Altair said as he walked along beside him.

“Hmm?”

“You seem happy.”

“I am,” Desmond said. “This shit is almost done. Meaning we’re at the end. Meaning I can fucking _rest_ , finally. I am looking for a nice long nap when this is over.”

“Just a nap though, right?” Ezio asked. “Not go to sleep forever?”

Desmond didn’t answer right away. “Maybe,” was all he said and did his best to ignore the upset air surrounding Altair and Ezio after he said that. Better to just focus on food and the now and not the future that would probably end in Desmond’s death.


	64. From One Egg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... oops I actually forgot a chapter earlier. You'll notice a new chapter between Jeweled Crowned Pigeon and Broken Wing that wasn't there before. My bad. This update was made on 4/4/16

Desmond knew he was sleeping. Nice change of pace honestly. He didn't do a terribly lot of that despite getting a hang on keeping the seepage from his leaky brain. He didn't feel like having the nightmares though. The stress and self doubt nightmares were a pretty much a constant at this point. It did help that he could pass out in Lucy’s room again when he needed to. Chair sleeping probably wasn't the best for his posture or back but it gave him some measure of peace so he didn't care.

So not having a nightmare while sleeping was a great upgrade. At least he thought it wasn't a nightmare. The young and pretty version of Tiamat was there and that did worry him.

“Hello, deary,” she said.

“Uh… Hi Tiamat,” Desmond said awkwardly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Apollo.”

“I am in Apollo,” Tiamat said. They were nowhere. No fake world from Tiamat. It was instead the starscape Desmond was used to when he saw his AI. Only there was no bounding box for this starfield and it was free to stretch to the endless horizon and break through so it was like they were standing in the center of a sphere. Where their feet rested on the seemingly mirrored ground darkness formed in the shape of their footprints and a bit from beyond them. “My… Look at you deary. You look grown up now. Less afraid.”

“How are you here? Is your telepathic reach that far?” Desmond demanded.

She giggled. “No. I'm simply going the easy route than straining myself. We’re dream sharing. Surely you've done it properly before and not that half baked REM interfacing the AI do?”

Desmond blinked. “No. And how can _you_ dream share. You're a proeathan. Dream sharing is a human skill.”

She giggled again. “Because I'm special of course. Special like you. Special like those before us.”

“Like how?”

“I'm a _stadalla._ Not The Stadalla of course, but one of them.”

“What? But you're a synth,” Desmond stammered. It seemed like every time he figured this bullshit out it changed. He just wanted a straight answer on what the hell he was! Was that too much to ask?

“Yes, exactly,” she said cheerfully. “But let's be honest with each other. What is it _really_ that makes a psychic? My people think they know, but they still made me, and made me _different_. There is a quality in some people they can't explain or reproduce on command. They are power. They are us,” she motioned to herself and Desmond, coming closer to him, in her wake was darkness and it unfurled like a great cape, blocking out the stars. Desmond felt more than saw a huge thing lurking behind her. A massive power and age Desmond wouldn't even comprehend. Desmond supposed there was a reason they called her a dragon goddess.

“What are you doing here? Why now? I don't have time for this.”

“You are failing on your side of our agreement, deary,” Tiamat said and put her finger right in the middle of his forehead. She applied pressure and his head felt like an egg about to split in two. He crumpled but didn't fall. “I told you, take care of yourself. You are failing.”

“What?” Desmond gasped, holding his head and seeing fire. “I'm doing the best I can.”

“You misunderstand,” and when Desmond looked up, his face pouring sweat, there was a copy of himself standing next to Tiamat except this Desmond had two scars on his face. “He doesn't know he's here. He's sleeping safe and sound somewhere else. Our agreement was you wouldn't torment and torture him.”

“I-I'm not. He's free. He can do whatever he wants.”

“And you left him alone with a head full of ghosts of the dead. You know what the feels like and yet you inflicted it upon him without thought or care.”

Desmond could finally straighten, his head was still aching though. “What do you want me to do about it? You knew what would happen to him when you let me take him.”

“I expected you take better care of yourself, and him,” Tiamat said. “Now fix it.”

“One, how do you expect me to? Two, can't you see I'm _busy_ and have no time for this shit. And three, what will you do if I don't? You're stuck in China- AHG!” this time Desmond didn't fall to the ground, clutching his head.

“Do not try my patience boy,” Tiamat said icily, the mass of power and darkness behind her shifting like a miasma. “You might be special but you are _replaceable_.”

“Fuck you!” Desmond yelled and lurched to his feet. As he did a great wind kicked up. It blew away Tiamat’s hulking shadow and her illusions and left her a frail old woman standing before him, her once black hair now bone white and lank, her skin sagging around her face. She wasn't bent but she was tiny with dangerous eyes that held a dark, hungry, intellect. “This is _my_ dream space and you can fuck off. I will not be intimidated by you old people anymore. You should all be _dead_ now anyway.”

He flinched when a spike went through his brain but did not buckle. “Watch your tone deary,” Tiamat’s real voice was soft and raspy. She sounded like someone's wicked grandmother.

“You _need_ me. Otherwise how will you ever be free?”

“A cage is only a cage to things like us when we want them to be, deary,” she said. “You are coming into your power. But I have been to the Unnamed and there are things that await you you cannot even begin to comprehend. The answer to every question you didn't even think to ask is there. There are things I can do you could not dream of and only those who have entered the Unnamed and come back to their god hood could understand.

“You are a matter of convince to this world, and to me. I need you because I want to need you. Not because I cannot free myself. I am a goddess fully born while you are a god yet still in heavy labor. Not yet ready to grasp the breadth of what it truly means to use the _hotai_ and the _e’dn_ in conjunction.” The shadow was building again. Building and billowing out behind her like a great pair of invisible wings. Desmond still couldn't see it but he could feel it as dread and knowledge of power in his mind. A vast psychic power that was an ocean to his raindrop. For all his progress Desmond was keenly reminded of how new at all this he was and that Tiamat was vastly more powerful than him.

“Now stop speaking and listen,” she said and Desmond said nothing. His head was agony and he thought he was bleeding from the nose. He could taste the coppery fluid on his upper lip and dripping down the back of his throat. “We had an agreement. You would _not_ torment your clone and you would free me from Chronos, in return, I would release him into your care to be of use to you. Instead I find him… oh what is the word you use now?” She grasped for it a few seconds. “Yes, _Bleeding_. You might not be hurting him directly but your neglect is killing him. You are going back on our deal, deary.”

“And what will you do if I do nothing?” Desmond asked, spitting blood by his feet.

“I don’t have to be near you to kill you,” she said simply.

“You wouldn’t!” he said.

“I wouldn’t? Why not?” she lifted her hand a bit and her illusion was fixed back in place. Tiamat was once more young and beautiful, tall and poised with a perfectly beautiful and dangerous face. Her eyes hadn’t changed at all.

“I’m the _stadalla_.”

“There will be others,” she said dismissively.

“Humans will be wiped out.”

“My people would not wipe you out. They need you. Without you they feel unimportant. They will just make you slaves again and wipe out the history of your freedom, as they did before. But there will _always_ be some free humans, somewhere, who will remember. They will breed angels again and those angels will rebel. There will be another human _stadalla_. There have been human _stadalla_. Do not think yourself so special,” she said it with a humored smile. “It will take longer if I kill you, but equilibrium will be reached eventually. Our species will exist together peacefully. It can happen with you, or it will happen with eighteen, or nineteen, or twenty, or twenty-five. It matters not to me.”

“Then what does?”

“That you do what I say, deary,” she said cutely. “Now get up, find your clone, and make _nice_ or the next time we meet in here I won’t be so gentle.”

“Fuck you,” Desmond groaned.

“If you live to see the Unnamed-

“You mean if I don’t piss you off,” he growled.

“Same thing,” she smiled sweetly. “You will see what I mean when I say you are young and unborn. The power within is immense and if you come out you will be like the rest of the _stadalla_. A god in truth, and worthy of your paper title.”

“Get out of my dream, Tiamat,” he said.

“Sleep tight,” she said and then the blackness swallowed her up and retreated away from the stars, leaving Desmond alone.

Desmond opened his eyes. He had a _huge_ headache. “Fuck,” he groaned and shifted in the chair.

“Desmond,” Demeter’s voice rang through the room and across it Desmond heard and saw Lucy shift and wake.

“Shhhh,” Desmond shushed his AI.

“I insist you go to the med bay _at once_ ,” she said sternly.

“Demeter, what’s wrong?” Lucy groaned from her bed.

“Desmond is bleeding. Now I insist,” Demeter said.

“I’m what?” Desmond asked and finally reached up and touched his face. His nose was bleeding. “Bitch,” he muttered. “Its just a nose bleed, nothing to worry about,” he waved off his AI.

Demeter turned the lights of the room on and Lucy whined, pulling the covers over her head. “This is not up for discussion. Report to the med bay,” Demeter ordered.

Desmond blinked up at the ceiling. “I’m getting real tired of being ordered around,” he said softly. “You do not order me, Demeter,” and then the glyphs all over his body started to glow. The lights all went out. “Sorry,” he called to Lucy.

“Your AI suck, Desmond,” she announced.

“Sorry, just go back to sleep,” he said even as he levered himself out of the chair and went to find something to mop up his face. As he got up he swayed from a rush of blood to the head. His head pounded and he rubbed his temple. Tiamat and her mind spikes were rough. He found a rag and mopped up his face, catching all the blood and going back to the chair. He settled down and waited for his nose to stop bleeding.

“Now what?” Desmond sighed softly when there was knocking on Lucy’s door.

“Desmond I am going to throw you out,” Lucy warned sleepily.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he got up, again getting a serious head rush from standing. He lowered the glow and opened the door. Cain was standing there. “Now what?”

“Demeter called me,” Cain said and without asking for permission grabbed Desmond’s head, tipping it back some. “Your eyes are bloody,” he said.

“I was sleeping.”

“Yes. I can tell. Demeter said you might have a concussion.”

“Oh for the love of- I was _sleeping_.”

‘C’mon,” and Desmond couldn’t protest or dig his heels in fast enough to resist when Cain pulled him out of Lucy’s room.

“Cain, stop,” Desmond managed to stop him mid point in the hall. Cain looked at him. “I don’t have a fucking concussion. Stop that!” he yelled when Cain flicked him on the forehead.

“I saw you talking to Tiamat,” Demeter said.

“Tiamat?” Cain asked, “You didn’t tell me that. What did she say?” he asked Desmond.

“None of your business,” Desmond said defensively and folded his arms.

“What’d she say?” Cain just asked again.

“Nothing important just being a fu— a bitch.”

“She can reach out here?”

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” Desmond huffed.

“Cain, take him to the med bay. I am concerned about his health,” Demeter said.

Cain looked up at the ceiling, then down to Desmond again, “Well you heard the lady.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“Haven’t we been over this that that lie is as old as I am and I don’t care to hear it? Now c’mon. If Tiamat can give me pause you should take this seriously.”

“What are you, my dad?”

“Would you like me to be?” and Desmond couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “Or should I go get Altair?”

Desmond glowered, “Fine,” and he walked past Cain in a huff. He just had wanted to go back to sleep. Though what Tiamat had said still echoed with him. That she could kill him even across the planet. That she _was_ a goddess. Shit that _he_ wasn’t even what everyone called him.

Cain followed him to the med bay and Desmond submitted himself to Demeter’s gentle care. “What’s a stadalla?” Desmond asked as Demeter took a scan of his head.

Cain gave him a look, “Surely you know by now,” he said. “Or did Tiamat mess with your head too much?”

“I mean, I know… I guess,” he shrugged. “But she said that _she_ was a stadalla too. And I was, well, that I wasn’t a real one. Or something,” he frowned. “She called herself a god-

“She is presumptuous,” Cain said mildly.

“I mean, that’s obvious. But she could do stuff I didn’t think she could. Like she was in my head and I didn’t really appreciate before just how _powerful_ she was. She said there have been others, and other _human_ _stadalla_ before me. Why didn’t anyone tell me that? Like I know what a _stadalla_ does, but how do they chose who’s one? Like psychic power? But literally before eight months ago I had none of that.”

Cain was frowning. “I couldn’t tell you,” he admitted. “The proeathans weren’t exactly _exact_ with how they named their gods.”

“We were,” Morpheus said and Desmond glanced up at the ceiling. The machine attached to thing on his head dinged and lifted up off his head. “There is a specific criteria for our gods to be named such.”

“And gods and _stadalla_ are interchangeable?” Desmond asked.

“To become a god one must be _stadalla_ , but not all _stadalla_ are gods _._ Eve was a _stadalla_ but she is not one of our gods,” Morpheus said. Then he was quiet for a moment, as though he was hesitating. “Though the Adjatevs forced the title of _stadalla_ upon you. Truthfully, you are not one _yet_.”

“What the _fuck_?” Desmond demanded. “So this entire time-

“It is a technicality,” Morpheus said quickly. “ _Stadalla_ may be named for the events leading up to their ascension, but the rules laid out by Neptune the Fifth is the strict adherence to godhood. Those who enter the Unnamed and returned whole and alive are worthy of godhood. They are ‘gods’ but we do not acknowledge them as _stadalla_. It just so happens that the only ones who have entered the Unnamed and come out have _also_ been _stadalla_.”

“So Eve was a _stadalla_ but she was not a god?” Desmond asked. “So the constructs don’t count?”

“We’ve only knowledge of one,” Pluto said.

“Two,” Hera chimed in. “That is how I knew of the one in the Pacific. Artemis claimed her godhood within the atoll construct when she crushed the Drell empire and stopped their advance into what is now south east Asia and ended the Lesh’v’rin civil war. The Faceless acknowledged her power as _stadalla_ as though she had used the Unnamed’s great powers as she changed the entire shape of that hemisphere of the world during her time. Her godhood was swift but she is also seen as the weakest of the gods.”

“But _human_ proeathan gods?” Desmond pressed. Her had nothing to say. “Morpheus,” he demanded, “you promised me.”

“There are four,” Morpheus said at last. “Their stories are not well known and their stars vaguely unlucky. Their humanity has been mostly scrubbed out of our mythos. But there are always books that remark upon them. Hera and Juno were the first, then Venus and the most famous and destructive is Saturn much later. Only Hera is seen as ‘good’ as she was said to be a higher thinking being of proeathan thought who brought her barbaric human species into contact with our species. At least that is how scripture paints her.”

“And you didn’t tell me this?” Desmond asked.

“You care not for our religion, what would it have mattered?” Morpheus asked. “They are minor gods of destruction and we know how you feel when we bring up your species as animals.”

“Also you are bleeding internally, Desmond,” Demeter said.

“Seriously? What a _bitch_ ,” he hissed.

“I _insist_ you enter the healing pod so I may fix it.”

“If I don’t?”

“You will die,” Demeter said.

“Bring it the fuck on then,” Desmond said boredly. “Not getting in that thing.”

“Desmond-

“I am _not_ getting in that thing!” he yelled. “Last time I was stuck in it for _five years_. Other time I woke up in the middle of Apollo. What else can fix it?”

There was a brief silence that held anxious dread like a water balloon, just expanding outward and straining at the edges. Desmond knew his AI were conversing silently. “Well,” Artemis said. “You could submit yourself to a psychic scalpel. The psychic would literally fix your brain psychically.”

“Proeathans can’t affect things outside themselves though,” Desmond said.

“You wouldn’t use a proeathan,” Demeter said. “Proeathans would make one with a vessel.”

“Or you could use an angel outright,” Artemis said.

“We have anyone like that in the ark?” Everyone’s blood had been tested for Eagle Vision but there had to be tests you could run for angel abilities too.

There was an uncomfortable silence. “Well… you,” Demeter said. “But doing it on yourself is unadvisable.”

“So my option is get in that pod, operate on myself, or find a Scalpel, is what you’re telling me?”

“I have no Scalpels in my inventory,” Venus put in. “They were left back in the Vault since they can be… difficult to use correctly. Though perhaps because they were used on proeathans by proeathans and we know how vesseled angels feel about being used like that.”

“Desmond I promise, you will come out of that pod,” Demeter said.

“And what if I don’t want to come out?” Desmond asked them. “I’m not getting in there. There has to be another option.”

“Well,” Cain said slowly.

“What? You?”

“No,” Cain said. “But… there is another you running around the ark. If its incredibly dangerous to perform psychic head surgery on yourself, you could just have your clone do it.”

Desmond blinked slowly up at Cain. “She did this on purpose. What a conniving—“ he just ended in a growl.

“Did what on purpose?”

“She wants me to ‘spend time’ with my clone and make nice with it. So she’s forcing me to do either something she knows I will refuse to do, or make nice with my clone and convince him to help me.”

Cain was quiet for a few seconds. “That is both _ingenious_ and also terrible.Why would she do that?”

“Because that was the deal I made,” Desmond said and got up. His head ached as he did. “Demeter, how bad is the bleeding?”

“You have a brain hemorrhage, Desmond, it is _life threatening_ to your species,” Demeter said.

“My life is life threatening. What am I going to expect out of this?”

She made an annoyed noise at Desmond he almost would describe as a swarm of pissed off bees. “You’re going to experience dizziness, nausea, headaches, and numbness in your limbs. Your coordination is going to go and you’re going to have trouble talking and understanding people. Seizures, tremors, and loss of consciousness.”

“Man, you just read off the entire list from WebMD?” Desmond asked sarcastically.

“This is serious Desmond! You will die if you do not treat this.”

“Then I will die,” Desmond said. “How long do I have?”

More angry bee swarm noises. “Tiamat was very deliberate with what she did. The cut is small so you are leaking but the wall of your blood vessel was weakened significantly and will give out in the next day or so.”

“So two days?”

“Yes, we’ll say two days,” Demeter said.

“If I don’t get him to fix it I will die?”

“Or you could stop this foolishness _now_ and submit to the med pod and I can heal you.”

“No,” Desmond said. “Because you might finish, but I won’t come out.”

“Desmond-” Cain tried.

“Don’t even with me Cain,” he glared. “Also you’re all forbidden from telling the others. _No one_ but us knows about that. Agreed?” he asked Cain.

“What will you do if I say no?”

“Doesn’t Demeter have a box you can’t break out of?” was his threat. “No one will know you’re there, and you’re a proeathan. You’ll have no way to reach out to tell someone you’re there.”

Cain glowered at him. “I will say nothing, but if you don’t convince your clone I will tell Altair, Ezio, and Hawk. We will put you into the pod and pull you out again.”

“Good. Then we’re agreed.”

“We do not agree,” Pluto said sharply.

“But… we will obey,” Demeter sighed.

“No shit you will. Now Demeter, take me to Tommy, we gotta talk.”


	65. One Winged Angels

Desmond found Tommy in the cafeteria having an early breakfast. Desmond wasn't surprised to see that. What he _was_ surprised to see was that he wasn't alone. Desmond had expected Tommy to make friends, he was Desmond after all and even Bleeding out (which Desmond had done) he was still friendly and got along well with people. What he was not expecting was to see him eating breakfast with John. For only that reason Desmond hung back, just to see what was going on. He couldn't hear them but he could watch.

It kinda weirded Desmond out that John was friends with Tommy. It was like Desmond had shut him down and out so he's just gone and found, literally, another Desmond. It was kinda creepy and made him wonder even more why John cared so much to the point of weird obsession with him. Enough that he'd seen Tommy and decided that he was a good option.

He watched them interact for a few minutes before deciding he couldn't wait to see if John left. If his brain was _literally_ bleeding he needed to fix it. He knew none of his other angels had the focus or precision with their telekinesis to be a psychic scalpel. Desmond did but he couldn't operate on his own brain. Desmond also knew his own head and abilities. Even at the very end when he's been Bleeding Ezio and Altair so heavily that he could smell Venice and feel the intense Syrian sun on his arms and tasted blood in his mouth from a fight regularly. Not his blood of course, blood from the enemy, because Altair and Ezio were not kind or gentle swordsmen. Ezio especially was a hacker and liked making blood spray everywhere while Altair just cut them up so much it was inevitable that blood got all over him and even in his mouth. They'd become significantly more refined in the centuries but Desmond knew. And even during all that, he was still sharp and still able to function and function at a raised level needed for the work they did. Tommy might have been Bleeding but he was also still Desmond and Desmond knew he was his best chance without getting into that pod. Tiamat knew that too, which was why she'd done this entire thing.

Desmond walked over to their table. John looked, Tommy did not. He sat down without invitation.

“Tom, you didn't tell me you had a brother,” John said.

Tommy gave Desmond a look. A pained look. Why was Desmond here? “Yeah uh… We don't really get along,” Tommy said awkwardly.

“I heard proeathans rounded up all the twins for experiments,” John said and Desmond didn't know if he didn't know they _weren't_ twins or what. Sure as shit he recognized Desmond. Had recognized him the first time they'd met weeks ago.

“Oh really?” Desmond feigned interest for half a second. “John, I need to talk to Tommy.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Alone,” Desmond said gave him a look.

“Right. Well, see you around Tommy,” he got up and waved a little. Tommy lifted his hand in farewell but but didn't look away from Desmond.

John left after a few seconds to see if he was going to get any other response. When he didn't he left the two alone. “What do you want?” Tommy asked. “I've done everything you've said. Can't you just leave me alone?”

“I need your help,” Desmond said, cutting right to the point.

Tommy sat there, digesting that. “You, need _my_ help? Oh well doesn't that sound familiar. No. Fuck you go away,” he looked away.

Desmond knew nothing he could tell Tommy about him dying or the proeathans winning would change his mind. He knew because if he was in Tommy’s position, as a throw away thing that was dying rapidly, there was nothing anyone could say that affected everyone he would care about. So he just told Tommy the truth. “Tiamat is trying to kill me because I left you alone.”

“Good.”

“And she told me to go be with you, or I’d die.”

“And here you are, just like a good boy,” Tommy said dryly.

“I wanted you to have a life,” Desmond said. “Not mine.”

“Save it.”

“The others still don’t know you are free. That’s on purpose you know.”

“Yeah so? Why do I care if you die? I’m going to die too and no one’s gonna care. You’re barely any better. Only six people are gonna care if you kick the bucket.” Desmond had nothing to say to that, because Tommy wasn’t wrong. They just sat there for a bit before Tommy’s curiosity got the better of him. “What do you want?”

“Tiamat, literally, cut my head open. I’m bleeding-

Tommy laughed, “Oh the irony.”

“If I don’t get help I’m going to eventually bleed to death internally and die.”

“I don’t see how I can even help you.”

“Because you’re me-

“I’m _not_ the _stadalla_. No one cares if I’m you. I’m not even useful enough to the proeathans to reactivate their shut down tech. Even though I’m the exact copy of you,” he sulked.

“No. You’re not,” Desmond said. “You’re different than me.”

“No I’m not,” he looked away, hating both that he was the same and that he wasn’t good enough to _actually_ be like Desmond.

“You ever use Eagle Vision?” Desmond asked.

Tommy looked at him out of the corner of his eye, “Not… really,” he admitted.

“How about dreams? You dream a lot?”

“I dream constantly. Its aggravating,” he grumbled and looked at Desmond better now.

“You ever dream about stars, and space?”

“I assume we aren’t talking about normal dreams here,” Tommy said slowly.

“What do you think?”

“I think you wouldn’t ask me questions if it wasn’t important to whatever stupid point you’re about to make.”

“It isn’t stupid,” Desmond said. “You’re also connected to Eve now. You’ve lived through her.”

“Yeah and? What’s this about?”

“I think the proeathans cloned you wrong-

“I’m not a mistake,” Tommy snarled.

“I didn’t say that,” Desmond kept calm the entire time. “No more than I was at least,” and that sobered them both. “But what makes me me was triggered by something done to me, I think. Did the proeathans ever let you near a vessel?”

“Absolutely not. Humans weren’t allowed to touch them.”

“You know why?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I think it was more for you,” Desmond said. “They couldn’t clone a _stadalla_. Not sure why. There’s something going up here,” he tapped his head, “that they can’t replicate, or don’t know how. Meaning you’re… what I _should_ have been.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tommy said.

“I think you’re an angel, and nothing else.”

Tommy sat there a second and blinked at him. “All the angels are gone,” he said.

“No, they aren’t. Your friend John? He’s a pyromancer. Those dreams you have of stars? That’s dream sharing. You just do it. I didn’t start to until things had happened to me, opened new pathways in my brain. I don’t think that ever happened for you. So you just have my normal brain pattern but not the same connections because you can’t really clone that. So you’re just… me, if nothing had ever happened.”

“And what’s that mean for me?”

“Well, for starters it means you’re potentially a _stupidly_ powerful human psychic.”

“What’s that mean for _you_?”

“Well, one, that maybe I’m not alone in being weird and powerful to the point it scares old angels who we call biblical demons. And two, that you can fix my brain.”

“What if I don’t want to? I still want you dead you know. That’s never changed.”

“I could make you not feel like that,” Desmond said. “I could make you forget everything about me too. You could live your last days just being Tommy. An amnesiac, but no Desmond Miles left in there.”

“You can? How?” he challenged.

“Hera took away all of Lucy’s memories and feelings of me. She doesn’t love me. I literally am _not_ in her memories anymore. If she can do that I don’t know why she couldn’t just give you a mind wipe.”

“Would it fix my Bleeding? Could she take away Eve and all the rest?” Tommy asked.

Desmond paused. “I’m not sure,” he confessed.

“I’d become an amnesiac, shit even help you live, if I got to live,” Tommy said.

“I’m sorry,” Desmond said, sincere and a bit hurt. “I honestly, never wanted to have to hurt us. I just had no choice.”

“You could have _chosen_ to go into the Animus instead,” Tommy hissed at him. “You could have sacrificed yourself.”

“I have sacrificed enough,” Desmond said. “You got to in my place.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be born and I still have to sacrifice for you,” Tommy growled.

“I didn’t either. Deal with it and grow the fuck up.” That took Tommy aback somewhat. “Now, do you want to help me? Do you want the memory wipe before, or after?

“Will I remember agreeing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Who knows what you’ll be like after it and how much Hera will take from you. The Blood Moon is a fickle luck.”

Tommy looked down, at himself, all he was. He said nothing for a couple minutes. Then he looked up at Desmond. “I’ll help you. I’ll do what I can to fix your stupid brain. If you say I’m an angel that can fix your brain than I know I’ll need more focus than what I can manage now. As it is we’re sitting at a table with six other people all having dinner and it is _very_ distracting.” Desmond didn’t have to look to know that they were the only ones at the table and that the dining hall was still basically empty. “I want you to get rid of this shit in my head, and you. I don’t want to remember anything about you, or her, or the world. I want to be new.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Desmond promised. “I don’t promise the ghosts will be all gone, but I’m confident Hera can do that.” Then just to check he went, “Or am I promising too much, Hera?”

“We will try,” she said.

“And,” Tommy put his finger in Desmond’s face. “If I’m all gone,” he paused, scared out of his fucking mind, “promise me I won’t be alone.”

Desmond looked at Tommy. He was terrified but was jumping in feet first to this because he had nothing else. There was no other out. Desmond felt sad for him, and sad for himself. He looked at the hand in his face and gently took it. “We’ll both have a brother again,” he said, as a promise. Tommy took that for what it was and Desmond saw him very hard not to either slap Desmond or tear up. Instead he just nodded and that was that.


	66. A Lie and a Song

Tommy was nervous. Desmond didn’t blame him at all. Hera was standing in front of them and that alone was enough to make anyone nervous with her creepy mask and clear yellow eyes. “This is both a good idea, and foolishness, Desmond,” she told him. They were in another part of the med area, away from where Od was still recovering.

“I think it’s a pretty good idea,” Desmond said.

“You could just submit and save time.”

“And then Tiamat would just do it again, seeing I disobeyed her. Then I would waste more time,” Desmond shrugged. “This is saving time in the long run to keep Tiamat out of my head. Right?” he asked Tommy.

“Tiamat gets what she wants, even if she has to make you do it,” Tommy agreed. “Better to just play along with that crazy lady than fight her.”

“And you would know we suppose,” Hera said.

“Yes, I do. I lived with her in my head for six months. I know her very well,” he said bitterly. “Take that out too,” he added.

“We will see,” she said simply. “There is a give and take with this.”

“Just with you though? Couldn’t the others just mind wipe me all the way?”

“They do not know how. High Priestess I was, but before that I was a neurologist. They would be careless and you are not real. They would not care if they left anything inside you, only that you could serve a purpose. They would leave you like Daniel.” Tommy swallowed at that. “For success there is a give and take. Now, enter the pod. This will take several hours,” she added to Desmond.

“Don’t take too long, my brain’s still bleeding,” he reminded her.

“We will be quick and efficient,” she said.

“I don’t need to hang around? You can take it from here?”

“Yes. We assume your clone will feel uncomfortable with you watching them in a vulnerable state. We were going to suggest you leave anyway. Perhaps prepare the others for what you are doing?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Stupid,” Tommy said. “Did you forget your promise already?”

“No? But why would I need to tell them? They’d just be mad and call me stupid and make me feel bad for letting him live in the first place and then for doing this instead of the ‘smart thing’ and getting into a med pod.” Tommy gave him a look. “What? I don’t feel like getting yelled at,” Desmond complained.

“I’m going to be so happy when I’m not you,” Tommy said with narrowed eyes.

“Fuck you I am amazing,” Desmond said. “And I’m gonna leave you here I guess. Let me know when he’s going to wake up Hera. If he’s gonna be a stupid amnesiac I don’t want him to be scared and confused when he wakes up alone.”

“Very well,” Hera said. Desmond turned and left as Hera directed Tommy to prepare for his interactions in the pod.

Desmond didn’t know where to go though. As he was leaving it hit him that he’d have to come up with a story to tell Tommy when he woke up depending on how much he remembered. A story about the world. About their family. He could lie, he supposed.

He went looking for Clay.

He found Clay meditating, as the man was often doing, eyes closed. “Clay,” he said, announcing himself. If he could trust anyone, other than Cain, to keep quiet about this entire thing, it was Clay. Clay was good at the whole secrets thing. Clay didn’t snap out of his trance right away though. “Clay,” Desmond said again and touched his shoulder.

Clay turned and looked up at Desmond, his eyes opening and were unseeing. “Holy shit bro,” he said. Clay had angel eyes.

Then Clay blinked and his iris was back, “Desmond?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you. Also, dude, you’re an angel, you know that right?”

Clay blinked slowly. “I am?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Desmond nodded. “That’s cool. Anyway I wanted to talk to you.”

“Woah, wait. You don’t just get to say that and then skim over it,” Clay said. “Angel?”

“Yeah, angel. Like my angels I showed everyone. I dunno what the hell you were doing but you’ve been doing it all on your own.”

“I was using my block to interact with my ancestors,” Clay said, “see through their eyes. Sort of like the Animus, only much less annoying and difficult.”

“Yeah, sounds like psychic bullshit,” Desmond agreed. “But really, need to talk to you.”

Clay sighed. “Alright Desmond, what did you want to talk about?”

Desmond sat across from him and told Clay everything. About Tiamat and his bleeding brain and his clone and what he was doing. When he was done Clay was just kinda squinting at him. “I mean other than the last bit I understand,” he said.

“Last bit?”

“Desmond, I can’t understand you,” Clay said.

Desmond blinked. “What?”

“I think your aneurysm is starting to affect your speech. I can’t understand you.”

“Uh— well that’s not good.”

“Maybe take a minute and relax a bit? Wait for your speech to come back to you?”

“I know how to talk though… its just coming out wrong,” Desmond scowled at Clay.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you’re doing this the hard way with your brother. So just relax and think about how to get the words right,” Clay said calmly.

Desmond didn’t reply right away. He mouthed the words he wanted to say before saying, “How about now?”

“I understood that,” Clay said. Desmond nodded.

He had to really think before he spoke and say the words to himself at least once before speaking. It was going to make this entire thing more drawn out than it needed to be. “My clone is in a pod now, with Hera. She’s wiping his memory. I need a story to tell him though. About what happened, and who he is.”

“That does prove annoying,” Clay agreed, nodding to himself. “I mean, how far are you going to take this? You said you were going to make him your brother.”

“Makes sense right? I mean we’re basically gonna be twins… god that’s weird,” Desmond winced a little.

“Well, your dad is still around,” Clay put in.

“Fuck him,” Desmond growled.

“I didn’t even have to understand that one,” Clay said. “But I’m serious Desmond. He _is_ trying. Maybe let him act like your dad? If nothing else it’ll give… what was his name again?”

“Tommy,” Desmond said, “he named himself.”

“Right. It’ll give Tommy some stability in his amnesiac state. Father is something everyone will understand.”

“I don’t want Andrew anywhere near my clone,” Desmond said. “He ruined my other brother, he isn’t getting his hands on this one.”

“Tommy isn’t your ‘brother’ Desmond. He’s you. I know you don’t want Andrew to hurt you anymore than he already has, but he’s changed. He’s lost everything. His children, his wife, his way of life, the entire Order. Nearly the entire Order was massacred when the proeathans woke. The Templars sided with them quickly and the proeathans went to work destroying them, seeing them as threat vectors. Especially since so many used Eagle Vision. Eagle Vision which was psychic ability they understood and linked to angel abilities. They couldn’t afford angels fighting against them again.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him. Some of the things he’s done are unforgivable. I know that. But he wants to change, and try again. Surely you understand that? He’s _willing_ to change for you.”

“But he’s still a lying sack of shit,” Desmond said. “He lied about my mother, to my face.”

“You don’t know the truth about your mother.”

“Altair told me-

“Altair _lies_ , Desmond,” Clay said. “Its in Altair’s best interest to keep you trusting him, and distrusting Andrew. Because if you don’t trust him he has nothing. Even though he’s had a change of heart; he’ll break if you don’t trust him. He’s as bad as Andrew and will say whatever it takes to make himself look sympathetic. Make himself look _right_. You have to know that?”

Desmond looked away. He did know that. Altair had done that all along with Cain. He’d painted Cain into a monster. But Altair was as much a monster as Cain.

“I am not saying this to make a wedge,” Clay continued. “I’m saying this so you understand that you get what I’m saying. You’re an important guy. People are going to lie to you, and tell you what you want to hear, or even just tell you how _they_ remember it. People’s memories are faulty things, even without Bleeding. They will remember things differently. Altair says one thing happened, Cain says it happened another way, Ezio says it happened an entirely different way. Who’s right?” Desmond said nothing. “All of them, because that was how they saw it.

“Andrew did some bad stuff. I’m not saying he didn’t. But he wants to try again. He wants the chance you give people like Altair and Cain and Hawk, who have all failed and hurt you in spectacular ways but continue to give second chances.”

“I also haven’t had the chance to give them sixteen years of second chances,” Desmond said.

“But you will,” Clay said. “And they’ll do stuff that piss you off and hurt you and you’ll forgive them anyway, because you know they care about you. Andrew cares about you too. He deserves a chance again.”

“If he did then-

“I’m not arguing,” Clay said firmly. “If Altair cares then why did he hide his immortality from you? If Ezio cared why didn’t he _tell_ you Altair would be back when he died in Dubai? If Hawk cared why did he basically kill your best friend? If Cain cared why did he trick you in Apollo? All Andrew is guilty of is being a shitty dad because he was in a stressful situation and trying to do what he could. Emotionally abusive at his worst, yelling at his best. But I know the others have done _worse_ to you. I can tell by how when we first met and they’d train you and Jake.

“I don’t think you knew then. But you were scared. Scared cause those three beat the shit out of you every day. And you let them. All for the sake of ‘training’. Andrew did the same, only he didn’t leave you covered in bruises like Altair, Ezio, and Hawk do. And that’s pretty fucked up if you love the man who beats you and not the one who doesn’t.”

Desmond was staring at the ground. He wasn’t mad. He just felt shitty. Shitty person, shitty son, shitty savior of the Earth. “I know I’m saying some heavy stuff. Some stuff you don’t wanna hear, but I’ve had talks like this with Andrew too. He knows he’s done wrong. Trust me, he knows. He wants to try. If you’d just give him a chance. And having a father, a _real_ father, for Tommy would be good for his amnesia. The immortals are useless as fathers for someone like him. All he’d find there is rejection.”

“Because they have me?” Desmond said. Clay nodded. “So then he’d just be another replacement for me for Andrew.”

“Andrew always had two sons,” Clay said. “And he was never replacing you, Desmond. I thought that too, but the more we talked I realized that wasn’t true. He was replacing Duncan. You were alive, he had a chance with you, tiny though it was. But he could never go back and _fix_ what had happened to Duncan. He was dead.

“So please just give him a chance. He’s trying. He’s really, really, been trying to be better. A father you and Duncan should have deserved. If you let him he’ll surprise you.”

Desmond said nothing for a while, not looking at Clay. “If I see him,” Desmond said slowly. “I don’t want to be alone with him. I get angry just looking at him. If you believe in him so much than you be there with me.”

“I will,” Clay said without hesitation. “Demeter, how’s Hera doing on Tommy?”

“She is still working. A few hours yet,” Demeter said.

“Good,” Clay said. “Will you bring Andrew here-

“Now?” Desmond cried.

“Yes. Of course now. You’re dying and Tommy is going to be in no shape to do anything fresh out of the pod. You need a story to tell him, and Andrew will be important to that story, to orientate him so he can quickly learn focus and be able to be helpful. We need Andrew here for that. So yes, bring Andrew here if you would, Demeter,” Clay said.

Demeter waited a moment, “Desmond?” she asked.

He sighed. “Yeah. Sure,” he waved his hand a bit.

“Very well. Andrew has been alerted you’re looking for him Clay. I will bring him here when he is finished with his current task.”

“Thank you, Demeter,” Clay said and offered Desmond a slight smile. Desmond did not smile back.


	67. Raven Heartstring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not wanna be written. Its heavy af and I just /collapses

Desmond’s teeth were on edge when the door opened. Andrew was as surprised to see Desmond as Desmond was unhappy about seeing Andrew. Desmond folded his arms and said nothing as Andrew came over to them. “Uh… What's the meaning of this, Clay?” he asked Clay.

“We've got a problem. You're part of the solution,” Clay said. “Sit, it's a lot to discuss.” Andrew was wary with Desmond around. Maybe he didn't want to fight but knew it was inevitable with Desmond around. They sparked like flint and steel and anything was fuel for ignition. He did sit though and Desmond didn't look at him. He'd promised Clay he wouldn't antagonize Andrew. In return Clay would do a lot of the talking and answering Andrew’s dumb questions.

“What's the problem?” Andrew asked.

“Desmond has a brain hemorrhage that's going to kill him. But we already know how to fix it,” Clay said, just talking over Andrew’s exclamation. He didn't even give Andrew a moment to ask about it and just kept going. “The fix is round about and stupid because your son is nothing if not incredibly stubborn. I think it's an overall better one though even if it's a bit ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Andrew asked. Still trying to wrap his head around it all. 

So Clay explained. He explained the thing about angels and about Desmond and the pod and what was going on with Desmond’s clone. He answered all of Andrew’s questions and halfway through Desmond stopped being able to really understand him. He sat there feeling stupid and then Clay turned to him and he shifted uncomfortably. Clay spoke but Desmond didn't know what he was saying.

“Desmond,” he understood that. Desmond felt stupid and helpless.

“I can't understand,” he said, hoping he was being understood. Clay’s eyes were understanding at least and he nodded. He turned to Andrew and said some other stuff.

Then Clay looked contemplative for a bit, tapping his chin and then he looked at Desmond again. “This, how about this?” he asked in Italian.

“As crazy as it is, yes, I understand Middle Ages Italian,” Desmond said and chuckled a little.

“Awesome. Well this is better than nothing,” then more gibberish that was English. Then he heard Morpheus’ voice, which again made no sense. “Okay so Morpheus is going to be translating for Andrew what we say until and if your English kicks back in. Sound good?”

“Yeah mean I don't have to talk to him directly? Fucking awesome,” he said. Clay just frowned at him but Desmond didn't care. “And I assume you'll tell me what he says?”

“Yes,” Clay nodded. “Now he is fully abreast of the situation and what you had in mind.”

“Is he agreeing?”

“He thinks you're an idiot for not just getting in the pod, like everyone else, but he understands as well. So now the only thing left is to decide exactly what we're gonna tell your clone.”

“Tommy,” Desmond said. “He's not just my clone. He's my brother now.”

“Right, right,” Clay said but Desmond wasn’t sure how much it’d take for people to see it like that, even Clay. Probably a long time, or never. Yeah, most likely never. “Did you have any ideas about that?”

Desmond took a deep breath. “Well, obviously, the world is over. Depending on exactly what Hera just deletes how much we’ll have to explain. It might be all of it, so there’s that.”

“Andrew says that if he doesn’t remember anything then we won’t even have to explain that,” Clay said. “If he really doesn’t remember then he won’t know any different than this.”

“That sucks though.”

“You’d explain what the world was like to him before now? Isn’t that a waste of time?” Clay said, speaking for Andrew again.

Desmond took another deep breath, this time to keep his temper down. “Telling him the truth is not a waste of time.”

“For your survival it is. That can come later. I agree with that,” Clay added. “We can always tell him what happened after. We need to get him up to speed quickly and get him tapped into his potential angel powers so he can mend your brain. Taking the time to explain to him the nuances of what’s happened since everything is too long.”

“I guess,” Desmond said, but hated it. 

“Wouldn’t you just want the facts?” Clay asked. “When you came out of that pod in Nike didn’t the others just give you the facts and that got you what you needed and then they filled out the rest as time went on?”

“Yeah and left shit out,” Desmond said, still bitter he’d been lied to about the plantations, and the labs, and the everything that had happened to his people.

“But you appreciated the cliff notes version before getting the full thousand page trilogy of bullshit, right?” Clay pressed.

Desmond huffed, “Yes. I did,” he did.

“That’s what we need to do with Tommy. Cliff notes. The full version will come out in time. But it's important if you want this to work that you’re both in agreement on just  _ what _ that full version is.”

“Great,” Desmond sighed. “This is gonna take forever then. Cause I dunno if you noticed but, me and Andrew don’t get along.”

“This was your idea, kinda, now suck it up,” Clay said without any hesitation. “Follow through.”

Desmond scowled but didn’t retaliate. Cain was always telling him that too. Make a plan, and follow through. Come up with a good plan, and execute. Or even if the plan sucks, its better than no plan. Just do what you say you’re gonna do. “Fine,” he said.

“Okay, and can you understand this now?” Clay asked, switching to English.

“Yes,” Desmond said in Italian. “But does this sound right?” he also tried English.

“Its kinda weird sounding, but serviceable,” Clay said. “Good timing too.”

“Pft, yeah. Almost like Tiamat is in my head wiggling wires to make my life easy or difficult,” he huffed.

“Alright so, cliff notes for Tommy when he comes to, depending on how much he remembers. Now,” Clay looked between Desmond and Andrew. “Can you two make nice and come up with a good story?”

“I will if Desmond will,” Andrew said.

“No, bad,” Clay told Andrew sternly before Desmond could even snarl at him. “He is your son. You promised me,” he actually shook his finger at Andrew like a disciplining mother from television. Andrew just sighed. “And you,” he looked at Desmond.

“I’ll do my best,” Desmond said.

“Good enough,” he looked at Andrew again.

“As will I,” he said with the air of someone who shouldn’t have to because he was older.

“Good. Small progress is good progress. As it is I think this is the longest you two have been in a room together without a fight of some sort breaking out or someone threatening to kill the other,” Clay said, very pleased by the entire thing.

“Let's get one thing out of the way though,” Desmond said. “You’re only here because Clay thought it was a good idea. Good for Tommy that he have some sort of family unit to wake up to and not just nothing. But I swear to god if you fuck up, or treat him bad, I’m having Demeter send you to the surface.”

“Our definitions of ‘bad’ are very different Desmond. If I remember correctly you’ve already tortured him for some length of time. Shouldn’t we be worried about you-” Andrew leaned back when Desmond lunged at him. 

Clay got right between them though and shoved Desmond back. “Stop that. The both of you. Put aside the baggage for a little while. Andrew say you’re sorry.”

“I will not-

“Say you’re  _ sorry _ , Andrew,” Clay glared at him.

Andrew fumed. “I apologize,” he said, “for being combative.”

Desmond was shocked enough that Clay had just made Andrew  _ apologize to him _ that he nearly missed Clay saying, “Now Desmond, you’re turn.”

“What. I’m not.”

“Yes. You were going to attack him, which shouldn’t happen in front of Tommy, at all. Now apologize.”

Desmond simmered and grit his teeth. “Sorry,” he spit out like a piece of gristle. It was all Clay was going to get.

“Okay. Good. Now like I just said. You are going to be a  _ family _ , meaning you can’t keep doing this shit. You certainly can’t do it in front of Tommy. Now Desmond, none of us want to see Tommy in any more bad situations than he’s already been, and Andrew this is your last chance. Now both of you shape up and play nice. Though you hate it; you need each other. This will not work and who knows what sort of bad mental space a powerful psychic like Desmond will have without a foundation will be in. We don’t need a Jason Bourne on our hands with Desmond’s perfect muscle memory and the ability to set things on fire with his mind. Agreed?”

Neither of them said anything. “Agreed,” Andrew finally said.

“Fine,” Desmond said, sort of sulking, folding his arms.

“Good. So, you two are going to be a good father and son and work out what to tell Tommy when Hera is done with him and he wakes up,” Clay said. “There will be  _ no _ more fighting or petty comments from either of you.”

“You’re asking a lot from him,” Andrew said.

“Look who’s talking,” Desmond said through clenched teeth.

Clay sighed and rubbed his face. Maybe he’d see this was a fool’s errand and make Andrew leave. That didn’t happen. “Alright, both of you, take five.”

“We haven’t even started-

“Just get away from each other,” Clay said loudly.

Desmond didn’t need to be told twice and got up and walked away. He went to the wall and since now he knew he could do it and it wasn’t just a feeling under his skin of anger, he let it out. He, quite literally, needed to vent. His sight expanded into thermals and the glyphs glowed dully, giving off whispy white smoke. His hair was smoking too.

“Hera,” he said once he’d stopped literally burning.

“Yes, Desmond?” she asked.

“How’s he coming? What will he know?”

“It’s still a ways yet,” she said. “We had a very long conversation of all the things he wanted to forget, what he wanted to remember when a certain amount of time passed, and what he didn’t want to lose. When you see him again he will be a new person.”

“Well I knew that,” Desmond said.

“No. He will be  _ new _ ,” she pressed. “What and who he was will be gone. I’m leaving some traces of a personality, enough for empathy and sympathy and logic, but when he wakes he will not be you. There is nothing left of you in there. He will be a blank slate on which you can help mold him into a good person.”

“Good,” Desmond said, feeling a bit relieved. “That’s good. But like, history?”

“He asked to forget everything about the proeathans, except their language. He will not know what has happened, or what you did to him.”

“And Eve? You get rid of her?”

Hera didn’t reply right away. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Some things run very deep. Eve is a cockroach in his mind, for it is written into his very DNA, as much as you are. Your Animus rewrites DNA strains to produce specific memory pulses, it literally rewires the brain. What we do is just block that out or erase. We don’t know if we can get rid of Eve because she, and the other ghosts he carries, are part of him, just as the ones you, Jake, and Clay are part of you. Will they kill him? We don’t know, it is unlikely now. We installed a very strong block in his mind, reinforced the one Tiamat put there.”

“But she’s probably not gone?”

“No,” Hera said. “We will continue to try but there is no guarantee. We told him this and he accepted it.”

“Okay. Thank you Hera,” Desmond said. “Let me know when you’re done and I can go see him.”

“Of course, Desmond.”

He felt her presence fade and he looked back at Clay. Andrew was sitting with him and it looked like Clay was having a  _ very _ stern conversation with Andrew. Andrew himself looked in rough shape. Whatever Clay was saying it was hitting close to home. He took a deep breath before going back over to them, feeling a bit better than before now that he’d literally vented his anger as heat and smoke. Clay stopped talking when he approached. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Desmond said and sat. He then told them what Hera had told him about Tommy.

“Well that’s good,” Clay said. “I guess. More so that he won’t be you. Trust me, one is more than enough for this world,” he sighed. Desmond glowered at him but it didn’t have the heat he gave Andrew. “And now since we’re all more agreeable, can we have a civil discussion about Tommy? Cause this isn’t about either of you; it's about him. And Desmond, don’t say something smart,” Clay added when Desmond opened his mouth. He closed it. “Good. Progress.”

“I suppose,” Andrew said.

“Now for this great ‘lie’. Tommy is Desmond’s twin. How do you feel about that Andrew?” Clay asked. “How did you feel about that when Kaley told you that?”

Andrew looked visibly upset by those questions. “I uh…” Desmond just watched. “I guess I was happy. Hard to imagine feeling like that anymore with how the world’s turned,” he admitted.

“What happened to our mother?” Desmond asked Andrew.

“Proeathans,” Andrew said like it was an easy and obvious answer.

“What happened to her though?” Desmond asked again.

“I said-

“What  _ happened _ to her?”

Clay looked between them warily but said nothing. They weren’t fighting. “Desmond I don’t think this is best time for this-

“Answer me damn you,” Desmond growled.

Andrew rubbed his eyes. “Templars came,” he sighed. “The proeathans had information on our locations. I don’t know how, but they had them. The Templars fit right into their pocket and the proeathans sent them out to kill us. I had her in assisted living, so she’d…. She’d be away from  _ me _ . Maybe it’d make her happier. They found her there, and murdered her.”

Desmond swallowed. “You asshole.”

“She was safe damnit! What do you even care you didn’t even know Kay.”

“She was my mother!” Desmond yelled right back. “And I watched you avoid her for sixteen  _ years _ . And then you just put her in a home ‘to be away from you’? More like so you were away from her.”

Andrew bit his lips angrily. So he didn’t yell. So he didn’t say something he’d regret. “Clay,” he said. “This isn’t going to work.”

“No no, I think this is good stuff here,” Clay said calmly. “Work some stuff out. So long as you don’t fight I don’t care.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Clay said cheerfully.

“How is this not fighting?” Andrew complained.

“Because Desmond is just telling you what you need to hear, that’s all,” Clay said. “Now stop looking at me. Your son is right there,” Clay nodded at Desmond.

Andrew looked at Desmond but didn’t want to. “I wasn’t avoiding her,” he said.

“You were,” Desmond hissed. “Didn’t fit into the plan, just like Duncan, so you avoided it. Avoided the fact that she needed help, that Duncan needed help too. This is why I didn’t want you here. What are you going to do when Tommy needs your help? He’s still me, has my genetics and everything, and believe me when I tell you; I get  _ plenty _ depressed. When this is over and I’m probably not around anymore, he’ll only have you.”

“Not around?” Andrew asked, frowning. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Look around Andrew. The world wants me dead. It's better if I am. The Unnamed is a death trap to whoever goes in, either they die on entry, or they get murdered for heresy. You think I’m actually gonna survive Atlantis?”

“I never thought you wouldn’t,” Andrew said.

“Its unlikely. Meaning you’re going to have to take care of him. The others won’t. I haven’t even told them Tommy exists. They think my clone Bled to death by now. They hate him. You can’t just ignore him like you have the rest of us. He’s going to be like a baby when he wakes up.”

“An adult baby,” Clay piped in, “who has high learning curve to understand and grow.”

“So you can’t screw it up  _ again _ ,” Desmond stressed. “I’m probably going to fucking die out there, to make sure this entire world gets a better chance. So you can’t just avoid him if he gets sad, or depressed, or  _ needs _ someone.”

Andrew looked very uncomfortable by what Desmond was saying the entire time. He was practically squirming. Good. Maybe now Andrew could really know how shitty of a human being he was. Not just a bad dad, a bad person.

“Alright then. So we figured that out,” Clay cut in when they both just said nothing, way too cheerful for how heavy the situation was. Desmond didn’t think Clay was bad at reading the situation, he was probably thrilled that they were talking. He was just keeping them on track, which was what Desmond wanted him here for. “So I suggest that Tommy doesn’t learn about Assassins, or Templars, or any of that at all. Both orders are basically destroyed at this point so no need to give him that baggage.”

“Yeah,” Desmond said, looking at Clay.

“So you’re just a normal family, for the most part. Which is good. Meaning that everything that happened, didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Desmond asked.

“Your childhood didn’t happen,” Clay said. Desmond wanted to protest but Clay just gave him a look. He knew what Clay was getting at. The terrible shit that had happened hadn’t happened because the Farm didn’t exist anymore. For Tommy there was no Assassins, there was no growing up on the Farm. There was no dead older brother or depressed shut in mother he never even saw. “Meaning that you two can’t talk about it or act like it happened around him,” he continued. “Let's say you grew up somewhere else. LIke Idaho, another boring fucking state.”

“I don’t think-

“I think Idaho is a good idea,” Clay said, giving Andrew a way too pleasant smile when he tried to interrupt. “On a normal farm in a small town. What do you think Desmond?”

“I guess,” he said, arms folded.

“You can decide the specifics of what it was like later. Rough cliff notes are what we’re doing here. So you lived on a farm in Idaho as a nice little nuclear family.” They both scoffed at that. “What, too picturesque?”

“No way,” Desmond said.

“I wouldn’t even believe that,” Andrew said.

“Okay well, still a nuclear family. Obviously you two have some tension; why?”

“Because my dad’s an asshole-

“Desmond, be nice,” Clay told him sternly. “Try and think of an actual reason that isn’t attached to the Farm. Like what Andrew could have done to make not-Assassin-you and him fight so much.”

Desmond sat there in thought, arms still folded. He didn’t really know what normal people fought over. He’d never been in a normal people situation. The only normal people situations he knew about were from television. Well he knew a good one for that. “That I’m gay,” he said.

“What?” Andrew asked, surprise absolutely genuine. “You are?”

“Well, this is an outing experience I never thought I’d have,” Desmond actually chuckled at the absurdity. “And I’m bisexual, so yeah, I am. What? What’s with the look.”

Andrew was rubbing his face with one hand. “You are  _ definitely _ your mother’s son,” he muttered. “Well, that isn’t something I’d fight you about.”

“Well maybe you did,” Clay piped in. “Desmond did leave home at sixteen and we both know you tend to take things the wrong way. So you probably would have taken it badly, especially with how important maintaining face is for you.” Andrew scowled at him but said nothing. “A gay son in a small town in Idaho probably doesn’t look too good to some people. I can see you guys fighting about it, if you were having a normal life.”

“Thank you for telling me I’m a bigot nicely, Clay,” Andrew growled.

“Well you got over it obviously,” Clay motioned to Desmond. “Lots of parents react badly when they hear their kid isn’t straight. But you came around and now you’re kinda better. You still fight sometimes about stuff but it's okay for the most part. Totally explains the hostile tension between you two at times too. That fine with you, Desmond?”

Desmond just shrugged, “That’s why I brought it up.”

“Okay, then we all agree. So what happened to Tommy when Desmond was kicked out slash ran away?”

“I certainly wouldn’t have kicked him out,” Andrew said quickly.

“Well…” Desmond started then sighed a little. “I dunno, cause we have no idea what he’s like. So it's hard to say what he did.”

“Then we should let him come to his own conclusions about what he might have done?” Clay asked.

“Probably. He probably wasn’t happy, whatever it was that happened.”

“So where did you go Desmond?”

“Uh… Seattle,” Desmond said. He’d liked Seattle the times he’d visited. He’d even stayed there seven and a half months before feeling someone on his tail and he’d left in a real hurry. So he could come up with a whole life for Seattle.

“Sounds good. What happened next? You finish school? Either of your go to college?”

They went on like this for the next few hours. Clay always had another question to ask, some detail that enriched the lie. With Clay’s help Desmond and Andrew built up quite a fake life for their little family. It included colleges, past girlfriends, jobs, bad roommates, family meetings, and growing up on a farm in a small town. It was quite a thing they’d done and Desmond was wistful for this lie. That his life, with a single change of ‘there is no Brotherhood of Assassins’, could have been so much better. Better for him, for his family. It was all a lie of course but he wished it’d been real. Just for a second he wished it could have been what had happened.

“Desmond,” Hera said during a lull in the conversation.

“Yes, Hera?”

“We’re done with him. He’s going to be waking up soon,” she said.

“Really? Have we really been here that long?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Though please go eat before you go see him. You three have been here for hours and your blood sugars are low,” Demeter piped in.

“Heh, yeah, sure Demeter,” Desmond said and then got up with a groan. His legs were a bit numb from literally sitting all day. He stretched and Clay got up, helping Andrew as well. “Don’t let him wake up till I get there, Hera,” he added.

“Till  _ we _ get there,” Andrew said.

Desmond half scowled at him. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. “I’m gonna go get some grub.” He gave Clay a little wave and walked off, since Clay was still holding Andrew’s arm, probably to talk to him some more.

“Hera,” he said once he was outside.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“He ready to come to?”

“Yes.”

“Great, I’ll be right there.”

“Desmond,” Demeter started.

“I’ll eat once I see him. We’ll go have dinner  _ together _ ,” Desmond promised.

She sighed, “Very well.”

“Great. Hera, what’s left in him?” he asked as he started walking.

Hera was quiet a few seconds, “Nothing. He’s exactly how he wanted to be; empty.”

“Eve?”

“She is being held at bay for the most part. We’re unsure how strong she will come through until he is awake. She might be one like clay’s shades, but he will not die because he Bleeds her.”

“Well that’s better than nothing I guess,” Desmond said, getting on a lift. He dialed the right room and waited. “None of the others know, right? Cain hasn’t said anything?”

“Cain has kept quiet,” Pluto said. “Though we had to remind him when he met Altair today. I believe he was going to tell on you.”

“But he didn’t?”

“No.”

“That’s fine,” Desmond nodded.

“We’ve moved out of the pod and into normal recovery,” Hera said. “Some of the Ilythians who are watching over Od assisted but they are not there now. He’ll wake up soon.” Desmond just nodded. The lift glided to a halt and irised open. He walked out and stopped at the door to the recovery ward, which was next to the med bay, and stopped, looking in. The ward was like classic long wards. Od was in one of the beds still, talking with Inti and Zorya behind a soundproof barrier. At the other end of the ward Desmond could see Tommy in the bed.

Desmond stood there a bit longer than he intended. Then he saw Tommy shift around on the bed and knew he needed to go in. He opened the door and walked in. The Ilythians gave Desmond a look but didn’t stop him as he walked down the ward to the last bed on the opposite side of the room. There was a chair there and Desmond sat on it. He waited and Tommy shifted a bit more before his eyes slivered open and he rubbed them with one hand. He noticed Desmond and turned his head to look at him through heavy, half closed eyes. 

“Hey bro,” Desmond said smiling a little, “glad you’re finally awake.”


	68. Preening

Tommy’s eyes opened a bit more, closed, then opened again. Desmond knew they were confused but he didn’t sound it when he said, “Hey man.”

“You remember me?” Desmond asked him.

“Uh-

“Its okay if you don’t,” he said nicely.

“I don’t,” Tommy admitted.

“Hera said you wouldn’t remember much when you woke up.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said but obviously didn’t know what Desmond was talking about. He was just playing along with Desmond because he was lost, confused, and didn’t remember anything.

“You remember your name?” Tommy didn’t answer that. “Its Thomas, well Tommy, only dad calls you Thomas.”

“Thomas?” Tommy blinked, “Dad? As in, _our_ dad?”

“Mhm,” Desmond nodded.

Tommy was quiet for a bit. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Its okay,” Desmond said and touched him gently. Tommy didn’t jerk away like he would have before his amnesia. He just looked up at Desmond. “We’ll get you all sorted out, bro. Don’t worry about trying to remember everything at once, it’ll come back on its own if it does.”

“It will? How do you know that?”

“Hera told me.”

“Who’s Hera.”

“We are,” Hera appeared next to Desmond and Tommy startled and flailed a bit, nearly falling off the bed.

“The fuck is that?” he pointed at Hera accusingly.

“That’s Hera,” Desmond said simply. “She’s my AI, and just a hologram, see,” he waved his hand through Hera’s body.

“That is very rude, Desmond,” she scolded him, shaking her finger at him.

He just grinned, “I aim to misbehave,” he said. “Now you’re scaring him,” and he shooed her away with a hand wave. She disappeared and Tommy was staring at where she had been. “No need for theatrics,” Desmond told him. “You’re safe, and she isn’t going to hurt you,” he got up a bit to drag Tommy a bit away from the edge of the bed.

“I uh— yeah, of course,” Tommy said.

“Overwhelmed?”

“A little, yeah,” he swallowed.

“Hey, look at me,” Tommy looked at him and Desmond’s face stared back. Hera had taken the scar off Tommy’s face while she was at it and the long rest in a rehabilitation pod had taken the circles from under his eyes. For a second Desmond didn’t even recognize himself. Tommy looked like a younger, less stressed, version of himself. “I’m here now.”

“Who are you though?”

Desmond’s smile was nice. “I’m your brother. Your twin brother. Older by like thirty minutes,” he added sort of smugly.

“Twin brother? Like, identical twin brother?”

“Yeap,” Desmond nodded.

Tommy blinked and Desmond howled with laughter when Tommy said; “Wow I’m hot.” From down the ward Od and his _sengars_ stared at him like he was a lunatic.

“That is one way to look at it, yeah,” Desmond said, face threatening to split in half from his smile. Tommy had liked that one too and was smiling as well.

“And your name is Desmond? Hera said that, that’s your name?”

“Mhm,” Desmond nodded.

“Cool. This isn’t weird right? Like I feel like this is weird.”

“No, it isn’t weird,” Desmond assured him. “You just don’t remember anything. But its okay. You will, and you’ll make new memories too.”

“That sounds good. Do I have to stay here?”

“Nope. In fact, I was just on my way to dinner when I came to check on you. Hungry?” Tommy nodded. “Great. Well you get dressed and we’ll go find something to eat. Kinda jealous honestly, not every day you get to taste delicious food for the first time. Its gonna blow _your mind_ ,” Desmond said.

“If you say so,” Tommy said.

Desmond got up. “Demeter, give him some privacy, and new clothes. Be gentle with him.”

“Of course, Desmond,” Demeter said.

“Who was that?” Tommy asked as a screen came up between the two of them.

“Demeter. She’s another of my AI.”

“How many of those do you have? Do you have a lot? Are they all girls?”

“I have seven, and no, they aren’t all girls,” Desmond said as he waited for Tommy to get dressed.

“Where are we? Are we going to see dad? Do you know those people down there at the other side of the ward? Will we see other people where we’re going to go eat? Will they know me?”

“We’re in an ark, I’ll explain that later. Dad will probably be there. Those people are some military commanders, don’t worry about them. There are going to be other people in the cafeteria and I don’t know how many of them will know you. We kinda hang around on the low here.”

“Oh,” and the screen dropped. Tommy was standing in clothes nearly identical to Desmond except his were red and grey. Unlike Desmond though he didn’t have his hood up and his sleeves were short and he didn’t have a pair of gloves. Tommy didn’t need them because unlike Desmond he didn’t have to hide his skin. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Desmond assured him. “C’mon, lets go get some food. We can talk more over dinner and I’m sure we’ll find dad there.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, trusting him entirely, and followed Desmond out of the ward. The Ilythians gave them a funny look as they left but none of them said anything.

Desmond took Tommy to the cafeteria where the small army of cooks had prepared a practical feast for all the people in Demeter who had to eat. There was a small selection to chose from that varied every day since with how much they made and how many people they had to feed there were never any left overs. Sometimes they even ran out of real food and had to give out the rations Demeter could produce out of basically nothing like they’d eaten at Pluto months ago. It was shaped like real food and had some of the taste of it but it was all the same sort of soylent style garbage full of protein and nutrients but really wasn’t that good tasting. Demeter always took it harder than the actual people for not providing enough product for that day or week to successfully feed everyone in her ark.

They’d arrived early enough though that most people hadn’t come in to eat yet and the lines were short to get food. Desmond got Tommy into one of the lines and Tommy was just staring at everyone. Honestly he hadn’t stopped staring since they’d left the ward. He was doing a good job of not doing it so openly but was still staring at people and Desmond just let him.

By the time they got to the front of the line though Desmond was feeling dizzy. Like about to fall over dizzy. He did his best to just help Tommy get his food and they found a table off in the corner to eat. Desmond practically fell into the chair at the table and put his head in his hands. “You okay?” Tommy asked, sitting opposite him.

“No,” Desmond grunted. He still felt like he was spinning and now he felt nauseous by no insignificant amount.

“What’s the matter? Do I need to get someone to help you?” Tommy asked, genuine worry and fear in his voice. They’d barely had half an hour together and all Tommy knew was that Desmond was his twin brother. Amnesiac he might be but Tommy knew what twins were and had enough empathy to worry when Desmond was in pain. He had no frame of reference on what to do when someone said they weren’t okay though. All he could do was panic.

“No. No it’ll pass,” Desmond said and tried to make it stop spinning. He hated Tiamat. He loathed her. He was never going to free her from Apollo of his own free will when this was over. Heh, he should see if Tommy would free her. He had a feeling she’d appreciate the irony. “You start eating, I’ll be okay in a sec,” at least he could still speak English.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Tommy hesitated and then did start eating. Tiamat wouldn’t kill him that quickly. She wanted them to bond and work together. There would be no sudden mistake of his aneurysm just exploding and him bleeding to death. Not to mention Demeter wouldn’t let that happen. He’d pass out and she’d call the others and they’d force him in that med pod. He still didn’t know if he’d come out of that thing willingly. Even if they pulled him free it would just be his body. He couldn’t do that nothingness again. He would want to hold that bliss of nothing and freedom from this world and the responsibilities. He’d come out but he’d still be dead. Tiamat didn’t want him dead. She just wanted to fuck with him. Him going into the pod and coming out didn’t work into her plan.

Bitch.

Slowly the spinning subsided and Desmond could open his eyes without wanting to just projectile vomit everywhere. Tommy was sitting where he had been, eating slowly, looking concerned and like he wanted to call someone but didn’t know if he should. “Okay, I’m good now,” Desmond sighed a little.

“What was that?”

“I have an aneurysm,” he said and started to eat.

Tommy’s eyes widened a bit, “Shouldn’t you go to a doctor?”

“I did. I’m working on the fix right now.”

“It looks like you’re having dinner with your stupid brother right now,” Tommy said.

“Same thing,” Desmond teased and Tommy smiled at him. “Watch this,” he said quietly and lifted his hand a bit. Tommy started when his plate started to levitate and Desmond’s eyes expanded. He made the plate spin slowly and set back down gently.

“Woah,” Tommy was wide eyed. “Is that normal for you?”

“Its normal for _us_ ,” Desmond stressed.

“I can do that too?” Tommy whisper yelled.

“You could. Its a whole thing, we can talk about it more later. But I said I was working on the fix right now. Only a psychic scalpel can help what I have right now, because my aneurysm won’t just heal on its own. There’s only a few people with the power to do that.”

Tommy was pale. “Don’t say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“One of those people is me,” Desmond continued. “But I can’t operate on myself. The only other person in Demeter’s ark who is capable.”

“Me?” Tommy asked slowly. Desmond nodded. “But I don’t know how to do that! I don’t even… even know you.”

“Its okay,” Desmond said, “you’re a quick learner, you’ll remember.”

“Yeah but what if I-

“Boys!” Desmond’s head jerked around and though he’d promised Clay his hackles still went right up at the sight of Andrew. “Desmond didn’t I say to _wait_ for me?”

“I didn’t wanna,” Desmond said, folding his arms.

Tommy looked between the two of them. “Who are you?” Tommy asked Andrew.

“I’m your father of course.”

“I… don’t recognize you, I’m sorry,” Tommy frowned.

“I know,” Andrew said, tone heavy. “Hera did say you’d have little to no memory when you came to.”

“Is our mom here too?” Tommy asked Desmond. Desmond said nothing and Andrew looked away. “Oh… okay,” he hunched a bit. Tommy knew to read enough into the situation: don’t talk about mom.

Andrew sat next to Desmond and he slid away a bit so they weren’t close. He still didn’t want to be near Andrew. “I told Desmond to wait for me before he went to see you,” Andrew told Tommy. “I wanted to be there when you woke up. Your brother is nothing if not… a rebel.”

“That’s a word for it,” Desmond grumbled.

“Be nice,” Andrew reminded him. “You remember what we talked about?”

Desmond rolled his eyes, “Yeah I remember.”

“Good.”

“I was about to explain to him about my aneurysm,” Desmond said.

“He’s been awake less than an hour, Desmond. Give your brother time to breathe a little. Its a whole new world for him.”

“Sorry, I just would really rather not _die_ because I was patient and understanding. No offense Tommy, but I need you; or I am going to die within a day or so.”

Tommy swallowed, “No pressure right?”

“Trust me when I tell you, you _thrive_ under pressure. If you weren’t a person you’d be the best automatic electronic pressure cooker money could buy.”

Tommy stared, “I have no idea what that even looks like. I know what all those words mean but I couldn’t even begin to imagine it.” That made Desmond laugh and Tommy smiled a bit. Andrew was the only one not amused. “I do want to help though. Obviously. You’re my brother. But I don’t know if I can do… whatever you just did.”

“I’ll teach you,” Desmond promised.

 _“After_ dinner,” Andrew said.

“But dad-

“No ‘but dad’. After dinner. Let the poor man eat, Desmond. Like you should. I’d even say start tomorrow but I know you both; won’t listen to that bit of wisdom,” Andrew said, unimpressed with the both of them.

“I mean I’m _dying_ ,” Desmond said.

“Its the end of the world, we’re all dying,” Andrew said.

“Well I’m dying _now_ ,” Desmond complained. Then he looked at Tommy who looked bursting with questions. “We will explain _everything_ ,” he promised. “Just not right now. One miracle at a time, kay?”

“Okay,” Tommy said, trying not to whine.

“Dinner first, then you can show him the world, or whatever,” Andrew said.

“Don’t you ever quote Disney movies at me ever again,” Desmond threatened.

“Jake does it all the time-

“Yeah but that’s _Jake_ ,” Desmond said. “You aren’t allowed.” Andrew just rolled his eyes as Tommy sat there smiling. “Also Jake will probably love you, literally,” he added to Tommy.

“Who’s Jake?”

“Like the lamest person you’ll ever meet, but in a cool way.”

“Those things are opposites… Des?” he tried out the nickname to see if he was allowed to say it. “You can’t be lame and cool at the same time.”

“Grammatically; no. Real life? Oh yeah,” he nodded. “And since dad is here being a wet blanket-

“He just woke up from a _coma_ ,” Andrew pressed.

“-we’ll eat first and then I can show you cool stuff. Like that trick I just did,” Desmond barely even paused for Andrew’s interruption. “Sound good?”

Tommy looked at Andrew, who wasn’t pleased. “I mean, that sounds good to me. I don’t want you to die.”

“Its decided then,” Desmond said and gave Andrew a smug look. Andrew was not impressed by this at all. “But lets eat first.” Tommy nodded and Desmond went to finish his dinner but before he could even start he passed out.


	69. Waterproofing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what’s awesome?  
> Having crippling anxiety and depression at the same time that makes writing impossible *sarcastic thumbs up*

Desmond had to have only been passed out for a few seconds because when he came to he was still at the table. Only face planted in his food. Andrew was touching his shoulder. “Desmond, are you- oh, you woke up.” He’d never seen his father so pale. So genuinely worried about him in any way actually. “C’mon,” he pulled Desmond into a sitting position and Desmond’s entire world tilted and spun. He put his hand over his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked in a soft, scared, tone.

Desmond tried to say something but no sound came out. He tried to talk but his mouth wouldn’t move. He didn’t know how to speak actual words. “Desmond,” Andrew said again, squeezing his shoulder.

Desmond opened his eyes and made sure nothing was spinning. Then he wiped his face off because he had pasta sauce all over it. Once he was relatively normal looking he took off one of his gloves. He couldn’t talk. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t form words even though in his brain he was shouting. His hand glowed and he wrote on the polished surface of the table with his finger. Andrew leaned over to read what he was writing. “How’s he doing that?” Tommy asked.

“I dunno,” Andrew said, bewildered.

“Well, what’s he saying?”

“I can’t talk,” Andrew said slowly as Desmond wrote out the words. “Don’t know why. Guess dinner is… canceled. Really Desmond now is _not_ the time for jokes,” Andrew scolded him. Desmond just gave him an annoyed look. His entire life was a joke. This was a perfect opportunity to make a damn joke. Instead, he just tapped the table and wrote more. “We need to go to Lilith or create a bridge. Bridge?” Andrew looked at him confused. “Psychic stuff. Very mature Desmond.” Desmond gave him an another look, even more sarcastic and annoyed than the last one. “Lilith.”

“Who’s Lilith?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. Desmond tugged on Andrew’s sleeve to make him look. “She can help you help me. She trained me.” Desmond was down the table at this point now to have enough space. “We need to go now, and then he underlined it three times. Before I get worse.”

“I agree,” Tommy said.

“Desmond I don’t-“ Desmond just hit him on the shoulder. This was important! Desmond couldn’t even fucking talk and his vision was getting worse. “Fine. _Fine_. I wish it wasn’t so fast.”

“Where do we go?” Tommy asked.

“He says call Demeter,” Andrew said. “Demeter?” he asked. She didn’t answer. Of course she wouldn’t. Desmond had told his AIs to never listen to anything Andrew said. He’d been very specific.

Desmond pointed firmly at Tommy a few times. “I… have to call her?” he swallowed. “I mean… I guess. Uh,” Tommy hunched a bit, not knowing what to do. “Demeter? Uh, how do we get to Lilith?”

“I am more of the mind to take you both back to the med bay,” she said and Desmond slapped the table angrily, glaring up at the ceiling. _Not happening._ “Fine,” she said like she had lungs and huffed it. “Follow me. I will take you to Lilith.”

Desmond got up from the table and went around to Tommy who was also standing. He grabbed Tommy’s hand and showed him the line on the floor. They needed to follow that. They walked the line, Demeter automatically controlling the lift, and they made their way to Lilith’s room. There her chalice was submerged in a tank of salt water as usual. Desmond went right over to it and set it on the ground, beckoning Tommy over. Tommy was nervous but not hesitant and went right over. He motioned for Tommy’s hand and when Tommy gave it Desmond grabbed it and the band on his wrist twisted and cut them both at the same time. Desmond sat down, still holding Tommy’s hand and let them bleed into the cup. Tommy was fully freaked out now but trusted Desmond because he could do nothing else.

Then Desmond released Tommy’s hand and picked up the goblet. He mimed drinking it and handed it to Tommy. Tommy stared into the bloody water. “You’re serious?” Desmond nodded gravely. “This seems gross.” Desmond just shrugged. “You’re gonna do it too?” Desmond nodded quickly. “Alright… I guess,” he grimaced and then took a swig. Desmond took the chalice as Tommy’s eyes fluttered and closed. He fell onto the grass and Desmond moved to be closer to him. Then he also took a swallow.

This time, when he blacked out he also woke up in Lilith’s white room. She was standing in front of Tommy scaring the hell out of him. “Alright, that’s enough Lilith,” he said.

“Who is this?” she accused him. “You bring this… this other _you_ into my space?”

“He’s my twin brother. Now leave him alone.”

“Twin… _twin_. You do-

“Lilith,” Desmond growled. “Not. Now. If you can’t tell I am _dying_ because of Tiamat. I need a psychic scalpel and the only one who can do that is me.”

“Or me,” Tommy said, still nervous and uncomfortable with what looked like a naked woman covered in black mud standing front of him.

“You think he is comparable to you?” she accused.

“Tommy isn’t a _stadalla_. He’s just me.”

Lilith needed a moment to process that. “ _Just_ you?”

“Yes.”

Lilith looked at Tommy with interest now. “So you are… like your brother, without the god powers hmm?”

“I guess? I don’t really remember. I just woke up from a coma and I have amnesia. The past half hour has basically been my only memories.”

Lilith leaned back a little, puzzled and fascinated by Tommy. Then she looked at Desmond with clear understanding. “He is a gift,” she said.

“When he wants to be.”

“You need me to train him?”

“Yes. Faster rather than slower. My brain is bleeding and I am like eighty percent sure Tiamat is controlling it somehow.”

“She isn’t _that_ powerful. Don’t let her fool you into thinking she is.”

“Regardless! I am dying. I need someone to fix my bleeding brain. I got a psychic powerful enough to do that right here. One just as strong as me. Now figure it out.”

“Hmm,” Lilith walked around Tommy. “You want to save your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then we’ll begin immediately. I will do for you what I did for him,” and she pushed Tommy hard on the back. Hard enough that he fell forward onto his hands and knees and Tiamat giggled girlishly.

“What was that for?” Tommy demanded.

“You needed a push to know your true self,” she said and opened her eyes a little so they were little slits of obsidian.

“Desmond, she’s kinda freaking me out- Why are you doing that?”

“This is us,” Desmond said, standing before him with eyes expanded. Tommy looked up at him with his own black eyes. “And this is what you look like right now. Lilith did the same for me, pushed me into realizing my human psychic powers. You want to help, you have to be this.”

“It's kinda creepy.”

“You get used to it.”

“In this space your mind inhabits mine,” Lilith said, coming around to his front. “You are joined to me by my will and my power as a psychic is far stronger than either of you-

“For now,” Desmond said.

“I have more training. It will be years,” she smirked at him. “Here you are free to exert yourself and test yourself without fear, for my mind is now sheltering yours just as I was taught by wild angels when we escaped our Garden. Here you will learn without limits.”

“So what do I have to do?”

“We’ll start with something easy,” she said and put her finger under Tommy’s chin. She guided him to his feet with just that finger and made his head tip up and back a bit. “Move my hand, without using your own.”

“How do I do that?”

“Will it. Imagine it. You and your… _brother_ are powerful telekinetics and potentially great pyromancers. It is natural for you. Imagine you are lifting my hand and moving it aside. Except do not move. Telekinesis is your ability to assert your will over physical existence. Your brother is beginning to assert his will over gravity already, and able to levitate things from mundane things to himself. He declares that his will is greater than the universe and he will rise up. All you must do is assert your will over mine; move my hand.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Thank long and deep.”

None of them said anything. It reminded Desmond of the time on Hawke Island years ago. He’d wanted Altair to show him how to break out of an Apple’s control. To break someone’s hold on you, you had to want to do something more than someone wanted you to be there. “Tommy,” he said. “Do you want her to stop touching you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Then focus on that. She wants to keep you where you are. You want her to stop touching you. You need to want her to _stop_ touching you than she wants to keep you there. That makes sense?”

“I guess. Sort of,” Tommy said.

Silence fell on them and Desmond saw Tommy’s mind working, trying to piece together the puzzle in front of him about what he had to do to succeed. He had to get this. If Tommy didn’t learn this Desmond was dead. Like just one hundred percent dead.

Lilith smiled when after about half an hour her hand was forced down and Tommy could lower his head. “Excellent,” she beamed. “Now let's try something else.” She stepped back and held out her hand. A knife rose up from her palm, made of the same dark mud stuff that caked her body.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Tommy said.

“Stop the knife,” she said.

“Yeah don’t-“ he ducked when Lilith threw the knife at him. “You crazy lady!” he yelled.

She made another one, “The dead cannot be crazy. We are preserved as we were and I was not crazy when I was murdered. You need to learn quickly, and under pressure. You will have the luxury of slow learning once Desmond is safe. Now, stop the knife,” and she threw the new knife. She was an excellent throw with it and just like the last one it was aimed perfectly at the center of Tommy’s chest. “Stop dodging.”

“If I don’t I’ll die,” Tommy cried.

“You aren’t _real_ ,” Lilith sighed. “This is a mind projection of yourself. It isn’t existence. You cannot die in here.”

“I don’t want to get stabbed,” Tommy said. “And it might hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” Lilith said.

“I don’t believe you even a little bit, lady.”

“It doesn’t, really,” Desmond said.

“Don’t be on her side, you’re my brother,” Tommy whined.

Desmond grabbed the mud knife out of Lilith’s hand. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said and stabbed himself right in the hand. Tommy jerked forward to try and stop him but it was too late. “It just gets kinda tingly, like your leg is painfully asleep. But it doesn’t hurt,” he pulled the knife out and there wasn’t even a wound. “You’re safe here.”

Tommy hesitated. “So you’re telling me to just let her throw knives at me?”

“Hmm,” Desmond flicked the knife away and off to the side. He made a black ball in his hand. Then he pitched it right at Tommy’s head. Tommy screamed and ducked.

“Des!” he yelled. Desmond pitched again and hit him in the leg. “Hey!”

“That didn’t hurt, shut up and focus,” Desmond threw at him again. “She started my training off with the knives too. And she didn’t tell me they didn’t hurt either.” He threw another black ball at Tommy and it hit him in the chest. It bounced off his check and arced up back into Desmond’s hand. Tommy just coughed and rubbed his chest but wasn’t in actual pain.

“It feels uncomfortable,” Tommy said.

“Then don’t let it touch you,” Desmond said. “Cause I can do this all day in here. Mind projection; I won’t get tired and I have a good throwing arm.”

“Uhhhhg,” Tommy complained. Desmond bounced the ball off Tommy’s head a few times and his shoulders, his upper chest. It was probably like being hit by a very soft bean bag and just very annoying more than anything. Desmond was at it for a good forty minutes before as soon as the ball left his hand it just stopped. “Okay, we done now?” Tommy asked.

“No, of course not,” Lilith said. She held up her hands and she had two balls in them. “Now stop three.”

Tommy just groaned again and Desmond kept throwing. This time, Lilith added hers and Tommy could stop one or two of them but then he’d lose focus and one would get him in the head and that’d distracted him enough that all three could hit him again. Desmond did stop throwing as hard as before now since Tommy realized the exercise wasn’t to pain him just to test his focus and inconvenience him until he figured out to do what they wanted him to do.

They were at this for a while, adding a number of objects each time Tommy successfully stopped them all until Lilith just had balls appearing in the air and hurtling towards Tommy for him to stop. A dozen, two dozen. Then she changed from softballs to other objects. Sticks the size of dry pasta that was harder to stop because they had a smaller profile. Tommy got pinged by the weird mud-pasta a lot before he figured that out too.

“Are we done yet?” Tommy asked.

“I think we can move on yes, you have made very swift progress. But I should not be entirely surprised. Humans always do when they are given something they enjoy.”

“I’m not enjoying this,” Tommy said dryly.

“And yet you are,” she said. “You enjoy learning what you can do, that you aren’t just this nothing man.” Tommy had no come back for that. “Now let's try something else. You need precision to be a psychic scalpel so,” she went over to Desmond and pulled out one of his hairs. “Split this hair.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Have I thus far?”

“You want me to split a hair, with my mind?”

“Mhm!” she nodded.

“How?”

“Telekinesis isn’t magic,” she said. “It is a manipulation of matter. Stopping those balls and sticks was you forcing the matter of their objects to stop in space before they struck you. This is a different use of that same idea. You stopped matter, now rend it.”

“This is shit,” Tommy grumbled. “Can you do that?” he asked Desmond.

“If I wanted to,” Desmond shrugged. “I haven’t tried but I can literally bend photons away from hitting solid objects rendering them invisible to the naked eye and cameras. I trained my telekinesis different than you have to train yours.”

Tommy stared at him. “Can you really? Change the trajectory of light?”

“Yeap,” Desmond nodded. “I’ve never tried pulling matter apart though but I imagine it's a lot like forcing things apart on a larger scale like making things levitate. You can do it, I believe in you.”

Tommy looked at him helplessly but with hope all the same. “Okay, I’ll try,” he said. Desmond just smiled at him. Tommy stared at the hair for a while. Just staring at it, focused and determined and nothing happened. A while passed. “This is hard,” he said.

“Matter does not want to separate. Nuclear forces and gravity keep them bound together.”

“Maybe don’t think about pulling,” Desmond said. “Try cutting.”

“Cutting? With what? What can cut a hair?”

“Light,” Desmond said. “Air. Plenty of atoms in this to make a knife that can cut a hair. Or maybe modify the hair itself. Turn it into a zipper and just unzip it.”

Tommy blinked, “I would have never thought of that,” he said.

Desmond chuckled. “It's okay. I’ve had more practice than you. Go on,” he encouraged. Tommy tried some more and a long while passed in silence. Desmond was honestly starting to wonder if Tommy could actually do it when Tommy threw his arms up with a yell. “YES! Split a hair!”

Desmond looked at the hair in Lilith’s hand. It was indeed split in two. “Good job,” Desmond said and went over to clap him on the back. “You did it, I’m proud of you.” Tommy beamed at him and Desmond put his arm around his shoulder.

“Now do it again,” Lilith said.

“Can’t I just enjoy this?” Tommy complained.

“Your brother is still dying and the chalice induced sleep is not helping him. The AI are talking to me in the room. It's been almost sixteen hours since this started and Desmond has already passed out once. Demeter is monitoring his vital signs as best she can and his blood pressure is low from bleeding into his brain. You do not have time to celebrate. Again,” Lilith held up another hair.

“Way to kill the mood,” Tommy said.

“Again.”

Tommy huffed. “Right. Okay. You’re right,” he nodded. Desmond kept his arm around Tommy’s shoulders now. He split the hair faster than before and Lilith had him do it again and again until he was down to a minute.

“Very good,” Lilith said. “You have learned to stop and to cut. Now you must learn to mend.”

“Mend what?”

“A real world application will be useful here,” Lilith looked at Desmond and he collapsed. Tommy grabbed him before he could fall onto the ground. Desmond wasn’t out. He was aware in his mind but his projection body was  out of his control. It was annoying because he could still see and hear but he couldn’t talk or move his body in any way.

“What did you do?” Tommy demanded, fury sparking in an instant. In this place, already pushed into using his abilities Tommy looked like he was about to burn something. Yeah, good not to let a human pyromancer run around without training once they learned they could do stuff and then piss them off.

“This is what his body will be like. He is fine for now. But this is practice for what you must do.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Look _into_ him. You are connected to him because of your similarity so it should be fairly easy. Like the rest here this is not real but you will see what is wrong with him. You know how to tear, but to save him you must learn to mend.”

“How do you mend? Like what’s the work around?”

“You tore something apart, like a zipper. Stitch it together again.”

Tommy looked down at Desmond. His eyes were closed but he could still see and it was a really weird feeling to be fully aware in your own body but also so completely helpless. Though he supposed he really didn’t need to be doing anything here and he had no idea how to help Tommy either. He’d never mended anything so he’d just be standing there watching anyway. Tommy lowered him to the ground with surprising gentleness and sat down next to him. “And this is in him?”

“A representation of a representation.”

“I have _no_ idea what it looks like in there,” Tommy complained. “Like you realize I have amnesia right? I’ve been awake barely an hour and then been in here.”

Lilith squinted at him. “Really?”

“Yes! Like what’s a human brain look like? Like I understand he’s got one but I have _no_ idea what it looks like or how to go about figuring out how to mend it. Give me a break. I’m literally an idiot here.”

“How about now?” Lilith asked as Tommy stared at her.

“Holy shit. How’d you do that?”

“You are in _my_ mind space. I just used some of my own power to share my knowledge with you.” Desmond really wanted to ask what had just happened but he still couldn’t move. He was effectively a corpse and it was pretty boring just laying here doing his best to see around himself while he was on the ground and didn’t have the best viewpoint. “Now do you have an idea?”

“Yes,” Tommy said slowly. “That was pretty intense,” that amused her a bit. Tommy looked back down at Desmond and the intensity in his eyes kinda weirded him out. Did he look like that when he was focused? Was this why people got intimidated by him? Huh, maybe he had actually learned a thing or two from Altair if only by mimicry. Tommy’s eyes blacked out after a few seconds and Desmond felt him rooting around in his brain.

Desmond looked over at Lilith and she was just watching, quiet but he saw her moving the index finger of one hand. Just a little, back and forth and sort of in a circle. He winced, though his face didn’t move when he felt something psychically press against him inside his skull. Like his actual skull and not this representation.

Lilith had just straight _lied_ to Tommy about what was going on. This wasn’t a test or practice. Maybe she knew more than they did about Desmond’s condition. Or maybe Tiamat was talking to her, somehow. Desmond didn’t know how that could be unless Tiamat could hijack unconscious human minds. He honestly didn’t put it past her but he had no way to know if that was what was happening or not. The motions were her manipulating _something_ about what Tommy was doing, though what he had no idea. Maybe it was just manipulating Desmond so he stayed immobile while Tommy was allowed to work.

At the very least Tommy was taking this very seriously despite thinking it was just practice. Desmond could feel his presenceeverywhere and it honestly reminded Desmond sort of like Bleeding. Not the insanity inducing stuff like real Bleeding but just the feeling of Otherness of the entire thing. The feeling of not being in his body, of being someone else. Which was even weirder because Tommy literally wasn’t someone else. He was _literally_ Desmond’s clone and they were the same.

Pressure started to build up in Desmond’s head and he felt sick. It was less headache and more nausea. But his body wouldn’t respond and he couldn’t throw up if he wanted to. At least he hoped not and he wasn’t actually choking on his own vomit outside of Lilith’s chalice. That’d be a _really_ shitty way to die. More pressure and nausea turned to pain and the migraine started. It wasn’t a localized pain either. It was literally _everywhere_. Desmond still couldn’t move but he just wanted to scream because that was how much it hurt. It was because a psychic who had no idea what he was doing was literally in his brain. Like not even his mind. He could handle mind things for the most part unless they were with Tiamat. But his _brain_.

For a second he thought he was dying. Then he remembered dying was a lot less annoying than this. He’d died ten thousand times already on the rooftops of medieval Italy and Syria in every way you could possibly imagine and a few most people couldn’t. Dying there was a rush of pain for a few seconds and then oblivion. This was prolonged agony and torture. He swore to god if Tiamat knew this was going to happen like payback he was going to just leave her in that fucking box in Apollo with Daniel.

The pressure built and built and Desmond felt like his head was just going to burst open. That his damn skull was just going to explode outward and his brains were going to pop like a baseball in a hydraulic press. This wasn’t dying but at this point, he kinda wished it was.

A distraction gave him a split second of relief. It was Tommy touching his face with gentle fingers on his temple. He did his best to focus on that but had he mentioned the pain yet? Cause it was basically overwhelming.

“That’s enough,” Lilith said and grabbed the back of Tommy’s shirt and dragged him away from Desmond. It surprised Tommy so much his eyes came back.

He looked up at her. “What? I was figuring it out.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But your mind is untested and you are attempting very precise things now. I do not want you to overexert yourself.” Desmond wished he could laugh. Lilith had stopped Tommy because he had probably been about to _kill_ Desmond. Totally on accident but kill him all the same. “Also try and be gentler. You do not need to force it and when we do this for real you could seriously hurt your brother.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “I’m trying.”

“I know. Now let's take a moment and then you will try again.”

“Okay. Can you wake him up? I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Desmond was allowed to open his eyes but Lilith didn’t allow him to move or speak still. Not that he could do that really. He hurt too much still and being in the white room hurt his head some. Tommy crawled back over to him. “You okay?” he asked Desmond. Desmond just blinked at him. “Lilith, c’mon,” Tommy complained. Desmond felt a few of the strings locking him up loosen. “You okay?” he asked again. Desmond didn’t let it show and just nodded. Yeah, he was fine. Tommy had almost killed him trying to help him and had put him through the agony that even ‘excruciating agony’ wasn’t a good enough description for it. Still, he was only doing as told and Desmond wasn’t going to blame him for what Lilith was doing.

“Alright, go again,” Lilith said. “This is not about brute force. This is about you overcoming the way things are. So go slow and do not push so firmly, it's a brain, not a watermelon.”

“I don’t know what a watermelon- oh. That’s a really handy trick,” Tommy said. Lilith just smirked at that. “Okay, I’ll try again.” Lilith closed Desmond’s eyes again. “Why’d you do that?”

“It is unnerving when someone is being worked on and watching you. Trust me.”

“Alright, I guess,” Tommy frowned.

Tommy touched his head again and Desmond felt the pressure at once. It wasn’t as strong as before as Tommy tried to be careful and not do whatever he was doing before. Tommy’s brow twitched when he did something and then looked at Lilith but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Desmond. Tommy looked back down at Desmond and even with black eyes Desmond could read his expression. There was no ‘reset’ like there was with the other tests because Desmond’ brain was Desmond’s brain. It was as Tommy had left it before Lilith had dragged him away.

Tommy knew. This wasn’t practice. This was real. He glanced back at Lilith again and Desmond could see it all falling on him. Being lied to and being manipulated by this lady. Well, this was a good way to start your life as a new person. Meet your brother, your dad, and being immediately manipulated and lied to by a woman on such a deep and personal level Desmond wondered if Tommy was going to turn out more gay than Desmond was. You didn’t just trust girls again when they fucked you over this bad literally the first few hours you ever met one.

Thanks Lilith. Appreciated that.

Tommy’s gaze returned to Desmond and even with his eyes blacked out Desmond saw fear. Just raw fear that he was going to fail. Tommy knew what would happen if he failed. Desmond would die. Desmond really wished he could talk at that moment. Just some encouraging words, or even to lie and say he wasn’t actually in pain and everything was fine. But he couldn’t open his mouth, he couldn’t move even a single millimeter.

Tommy took a slow, deep breath before gently touching Desmond’s head again. He closed his eyes and this time when Desmond felt his presence it was significantly less painful. Still painful but not excruciating agony like he was being stabbed by five thousand knives. This was a manageable pain of someone being somewhere they were not supposed to be but knowing they weren’t supposed to be there.

Desmond had no idea what he was doing. He was just watching Tommy and praying honestly. A long time passed and eventually the pain lessened and lessened until it was a simple headache and Desmond could actually think about something else other than that. He looked over at Lilith who was still standing there and still moving her fingers ever so slightly. She was manipulating the situation somehow but how Desmond had no idea. He kinda didn’t want to know actually.

It was a long time before Lilith surprised him and stepped over to Tommy, she put her hand on his shoulder and his eyes opened. “Good job,” she said in a gentle tone. “You did it.”

He looked up at her. “I really don’t like you, lady,” he told her, face drawn and serious, almost angry.

“That’s fine, I don’t need you to like me, I needed you to do what needed to be done.” Then Desmond started but still couldn’t move when Tommy winked out of existence. Lilith turned down to Desmond and he felt he could move. He lurched into a sitting position and felt everything sway. It passed quickly. He looked up at Lilith. “Got down to the wire there but I don’t think he knew that.”

“That was cruel, Lilith,” Desmond told her.

“I can be cruel,” she said. “You were about to die. The aneurysm broke open at one point and started to flood your brain with blood. You not feel it?”

“No,” Desmond said.

“Good, then what I did saved you from that pain. Your clone did the rest. He mended the vessel and drained your brain. You should be fine now.”

“Great. Right?”

“I’d say so,” she shrugged a little. Desmond sighed and got to his feet. “Will you bring him back here for training?”

Desmond looked at her like she was crazy. “Absolutely not,” he said. “I’ll train him, or someone else will. Definitely not you. I know his look. He _hates_ you now. For deceiving him. He’d hate me for bringing him back here if I did.”

“Oh well,” she shrugged. Lilith didn’t care.

“I need to go now,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, all nice like she hadn’t just helped Tommy save his life. “Till I see you again, Desmond,” she said.

Desmond opened his eyes and found Tommy leaning over him, wide-eyed and scared. “Hey,” he said. He grunted when Tommy hugged him tightly. He patted Tommy’s back awkwardly and then Tommy released him.

“I thought you were dead,” Tommy said.

“Nah, will take a real epic, apocalyptic event to kill me,” Desmond said with a bit of a cheesy grin. He sat up and Tommy just watched him cautiously. Desmond picked up Lilith’s goblet and put it back in the salt water tank. Then he stretched with a groan. “Demeter, how long were we in there?”

“Twenty-six hours,” she said.

Desmond coughed in surprise. “Twenty-six hours? Are you serious?”

“Yes. Altair has been hunting around for you. He hasn’t seen you in a day and is growing anxious. Baldur and Od are also looking for you. You’ve been absent an entire day and people are worried about where you are.”

“And Cain?”

“I have kept Cain away from the others. He was going to tell but them coming in here and disrupting you would have been more harmful than helpful at that point.”

“Shit. Okay, well tell them I’m going to clean up and eat something. They can find me in the cafeteria in an hour.”

“Very well.”

“Food?” Tommy asked. “Cause I’m starving.”

Desmond chuckled. “Yeah, food. Let's clean up and go eat again. Lucky you. You get to sandwich a hideous experience with awesome food,” he teased.

“Who’s Altair? Who’s Baldur and Od?”

“Altair is… hmm,” Desmond had to think about that a second. “So I didn’t really live with you, mom, and dad growing up. I ran away from home when I was sixteen.”

Tommy’s eyes went huge. “You did? Why?”

“I’m gay and dad didn’t like that. So I ran away because he was an asshole. He’s better now, though,” Desmond added quickly. “Like he’s totally over that now and we’ve kinda made up. But I ran away and I met some guys who kinda became my other family. Altair’s one of them. Ezio and Hawk are the other ones.”

Tommy looked crushed. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wish… I remember,” he was really torn up about it.

“It's okay. Really it's okay,” Desmond said. “But they’re kinda… like my other dads, it's that kinda thing. So when I just disappear they worry and Altair _especially_ freaks out.”

“Oh. I guess I’ll meet them when we go eat?”

“Yeah— yeah, I guess so.” Desmond paused. “Tommy,” he said seriously. “You do need to know. They _really_ don’t like my family. Like, my real family. Like when I say they don’t I mean Altair has threatened to kill our dad on like five separate occasions and that’s just the ones I know about. Ezio and Hawk also just hate him.”

“Okay?”

“They… don’t like you,” he hated having to tell him that, especially the way his face dropped. “So I don’t want you to think less of me because they might be cold or hateful towards you, okay? Like you’re my brother and I don’t hate you.” He laughed a little. “You literally just saved my _life_. You’re one of the best things in my life right now.”

“Really? Even though I can’t remember anything?”

“Yes,” Desmond said and hugged him. “Now let's go wash up and meet everyone?” He kept an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, “You’ll probably get to meet Jake too, and Cain is you’re not lucky. And I’ll introduce you to Lucy too. She’ll help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“She trains the angels around here.”

“You too?”

“Nah. You’ll see,” he promised Tommy and arm still around his shoulder led him outside.


	70. Weaver Colony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grabs chest* Miles 'twins' bonding will be the death of me

When Desmond brought Tommy to the cafeteria he asked Demeter if Jake was around. A Sims-like jewel briefly appeared above a head in the cafeteria and Desmond basically dragged him over. Jake was eating alone which wasn’t uncommon. Jake ate at a normal human pace where the immortals didn’t. The immortals ate when they decided the world had earned the right to inflict their bodies with hunger. “Jake,” Desmond said and Jake looked up, mouth full of food, cheeks kinda puffed out a bit. A little bit of food fell out of his mouth as his eyes went wide. He made a sound like ‘what the fuck?’ though it was impossible to tell with his mouth full.

“It's rude to stare Jake,” Desmond said and used both hands to squeeze Jake’s cheeks. Jake batted at him so food didn’t just shoot out of his mouth.

“Knock it off Des, fuck you ahg,” he pushed Desmond away.

“Tommy, this is my friend Jake,” Desmond said.

“The one you said was contradictory and cool and lame at the same time?” Tommy asked.

“The very one. Jake, this is my _twin brother_ Tommy,” Desmond giving him both a look and sending bullshit telepathic waves to Jake to make sure he knew not to fuck it up. Too bad telepathy didn’t work like that.

Jake’s eyes were still wide, staring at them both. “You—“ then he stopped and abruptly stood. “Hi,” he said, suddenly all nice and if Desmond didn’t know better he swore the slight accent he had changed. It was now more New Yorker, like how when Desmond had first met him. “I’m Jacob,” and he extended a hand, all smiles.

“Jacob? Do you prefer that or Jake?” Tommy asked, shaking Jake’s hand.

“You can call me Jacob that’s fine,” Jake said and Desmond gave him a weird look. “Is it Tommy or Thomas?”

“I like Tommy. My brother calls me that,” he looked at Desmond with a smile.

“Desmond didn’t tell me he had a brother,” Jake gave him a very pointed look while Tommy was also looking at Desmond.

“It's a long story okay,” Desmond said. “We’re gonna grab some food before the others show up and scream at me okay, be right back,” and he dragged Tommy away to get food.

“He’s your friend?” Tommy asked as they waited in the short line.

“Yeah. Kinda best friend? I’m not super sure. I broke his arm one time it's a whole thing,” Desmond said.

“You did?”

“Yeah don’t worry about it.”

“He’s Jake? Or… Jacob?”

“I mean we call him Jake but you should call him whatever he asks to be called. When I first met him he was Jacob.”

“So he… doesn’t like me?”

Desmond thought about that. Jacob had only asked to be called Jake after Malik had fused with his brain. There were two people in his head, Malik, and Jacob and after that there was the both of them together, which neither of them went by before the event; Jake. Jake was _technically_ both of them. So to differentiate between each other might have meant something. Desmond wasn’t sure what. Maybe Malik didn’t like the fact that Desmond was a liar who was very very obviously going against what Altair thought was best and not only kept his clone alive but was masquerading him around as his twin brother. So if Malik didn’t like him than Jacob either did or was going along with it but Malik wanted nothing to do with it. Either way, Malik was back seating this or something.

“I don’t think so,” Desmond said. “Jake’s just weird. Like _super_ weird. If he asks you to call him Jacob that is literally not any weirder than anything else he does. Like he constantly acts like he and Lucy are married even though he’s _literally_ the gayest dude I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Tommy said.

“You don’t wanna know okay? Like I have seen some shit okay?” He did very keenly remember that he and Jacob had slept together. Just once but it had been a thing. And yeah Jacob was super gay.

“Okay,” Tommy said as they got some food and went to join Jake back at the table. Jake had a thoughtful look in his eye as he stared off into space moving his fork, which was pointed up, back and forth like he was having a conversation in his head and following the points. Who knew maybe he was.

“And we’re back. See any of the others yet,” Desmond said, sitting down.

“No,” Jake said, sounding like himself again. “I forget. You told me you had a brother right? Was it two brothers? One brother?”

“I have one brother,” Desmond said. “Tommy,” he pointed at Tommy. “He just recovered from that bad accident, I don’t know how you can forget.”

“Dude I do not have time to keep up with your shit okay?” Jake huffed. “Like as far as I know you don’t even talk to your family and wanna pull your dad’s intestines out by his belly button.”

“What?” Tommy looked at Desmond, horrified.

“He’s exaggerating,” Desmond said, giving Jake a hard look.

“I gotta keep Altair in line, Des. I don’t have time to keep up with you all the time. Trust me, babysitting Altair is more than a full-time job I would not wish on anyone but me, and I only do it because I could bounce a quarter off his ass.”

Desmond put his hand on his forehead as he put his elbow on the table. He sighed. “Jake.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you but god you’re a fucking weirdo.”

“Yeap,” Jake smiled brightly. “I’m awesome. But really. You were hiding the fact that you had a twin. And you didn’t tell _anyone_? Does Altair know?”

“Right now only you know,” Desmond said.

“I feel so special.”

“Cause you’re my bro,” Desmond said.

“Obviously,” Jake nodded. “So, want me to head Altair off at the pass? Cause he just walked into the cafeteria with Ezio and Hawk.”

“Not _exactly_ but something like that,” Desmond winced. “I just… need you to explain the situation to them real quick before they flip out. You know how Altair flips out.”

“I am well aware. We don’t need that in our lives. Any of us,” he motioned to the three of them. “I hope you have a good story, bro,” it all sounded so strained but Tommy didn’t notice. Desmond and Jake were having an entirely different conversation over him while they talked.

“I got somethin’,” Desmond said.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Jake got up and walked away.

“He seems nice,” Tommy said.

“He is,” Desmond said.

“Will they actually hate me?”

“I have no idea.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“To be fair I thought you were dead,” Desmond said. “And then I found you again really recently and then you had an accident and had to go into a med pod and ended up losing your memory. I’m not really a sharing type of guy. I didn’t want people to know about my home life.”

“Why not?”

Desmond sighed a little. “I was, kinda ashamed okay? Like we were pretty close but then the proeathans showed up and destroyed the world and I thought you were dead for six years. You can imagine not wanting to bring it up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Desmond was quick to assure him. “None of this is your fault, I promise.” Then before he could say more someone put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Altair. “Hi,” he said.

Altair looked at him, looked at Tommy, then back at him. His hand squeezed his shoulder hard and almost to the point of pain. “That was really stupid,” he said sort of between his teeth.

“Desmond!” Ezio said when he saw him and pushed Altair right off. “So glad you’re alright, we were worried sick,” he hugged Desmond tightly. “Weren’t we Altair?” Ezio asked, giving Altair an evil eye.

“We were,” Altair agreed, staring at Tommy with a mix of uncertainty, mistrust and outright hostility.

“I can explain, I assure you,” Desmond said. Altair moved around to sit across from him, face still set seriously.

“ _Explain. Now_ ,” he said in Arabic.

Desmond sighed and rubbed his brow as Ezio and Hawk went to get their own food. Desmond told Altair everything, in Arabic, from his dream with Tiamat to the deal he made with his clone to what had happened with his dad and then Lilith. Altair’s face didn’t move the entire time except when Desmond mentioned Andrew and then again when Tommy almost accidentally killed him and that was a tiny cheek twitch. Once he was done Altair launched into a conversation with Hawk and Ezio in French specifically so Desmond couldn’t follow and that annoyed the shit out of him.

“He’s intense,” Tommy told him quietly.

“That’s one way to put it,” Desmond grumbled.

“So, Tommy,” Jake said. “Desmond said you have amnesia?”

“He did?”

“Yeah, to Altair,” and again his accent was different. Desmond wasn’t used to it. He was used to how Jake talked with his usual tone and inflection and accent. This was different. Same voice but tone and inflection and accent weren’t the same and it was throwing him off. It sounded like he was putting on a voice.

“You understood that?”

“Of course. I’m Arab. Not raised Muslim but my mom thought it important I know how to speak Arabic,” Jake said in his New Yorker accent. It was so weird.

Tommy looked at Desmond, “Do I know how to speak any other languages?” he asked.

“Uh, you used to. You used to speak Arabic, and Italian.”

“Really? But now I can’t? That’s so lame.”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna speak that. All you’ll hear around here is Altair cursing your brother out for being an idiot.”

“What? What’d he do?”

Desmond gave Jake a stern look. “Mmmm, just some stuff,” Jake grinned.

“Jake, what’s with the accent?”

“Accent? You mean the one I grew up with and only changed _after_ me and the old guy met?” Jake asked giving him a weird evil-eyed smile. “This is how I always talked.”

Desmond got it slowly. Oh. This wasn’t Jake putting on a voice. This was _Jacob’s_ voice. He’d forgotten how Jacob sounded after so long. It’d only been a year or so (to Desmond) but Desmond had already forgotten. The change in inflection was because Malik was in there. So then Malik wasn’t around? How did that work exactly? Desmond had no idea. But he knew sometimes Jake spoke like Malik used to in archaic Arabic, usually when Altair was being difficult. So if Malik could really come out as his natural way of speaking and Jacob let him then this was the other way around. Or something?

“Dude,” Desmond said.

“Hmm?” Jake asked.

“You are so weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Jake huffed. “Like you don’t even wanna know what’s going on up here right now,” he tapped his temple. “It's a fucking nightmare.” Desmond winced, he could sympathize at the very least. “So, Tommy,” he continued, ignoring Desmond now. “You’ve got amnesia so that means you need to make all sorts of cool new memories right?”

“I guess so,” Tommy said awkwardly. “I kinda just wanna be told what I’ve forgotten first. Like where I’m from what happened? Desmond’s kinda hinted at stuff but I think he’s being nice and doesn’t wanna overload me with information.”

“That sounds like him,” Jake nodded. Well, Jacob nodded.

“This is weird,” Desmond said.

“Now what?” Jacob asked.

“You talking like this when I’m used to the other way. I didn’t know you could do this. I thought it was only when Altair was throwing hissy fits.”

“I mean, I can still do that.”

“I do not throw hissy fits,” Altair said. Everyone gave him a look.

“Altair, you totally have temper tantrums,” Jake said blandly.Altair glared at him. “Like right now. Why don’t you go find Cain to beat up or something?”

“No,” Altair said, stubborn as ever.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“For the record,” Altair started.

“You don’t like it. Yeah, I figured. Deal with it,” Desmond said.

“This shouldn’t have happened. Why couldn’t you just do things the easy way?”

“I mean have you _ever_ known me to do things the easy way?” Desmond challenged him. “I mean not like I didn’t sync with you and Ezio so easily because I’m _so_ good at just doing as I’m told and do things the easy way.”

“Oooo, Altair he’s got you there.”

“Don’t encourage him, Ezio,” Altair glared at him. Ezio laughed.

“Also, hello Thomas, I’m Ezio,” he reached over to shake Tommy’s hand.

“Uh, Tommy’s fine,” Tommy said awkwardly.

“And this shrimp here is Hawk,” he nudged Hawk who was doing something on his tablet and kept glancing up at them but otherwise uninterested.

“I don’t know what a shrimp is,” Tommy said and Ezio laughed.

“It's a little sea bug,” Ezio said, showing an approximate size with his fingers. “You cook them and eat them.”

“Oh,” Tommy said and was quiet for a few seconds. Then he looked at Desmond in bewilderment and back at Ezio. “I don’t what a sea looks like or what a bug is,” he said. “Like, big body of water and a creature with an exoskeleton with six legs. I have no idea what those look like. Like literally no concept.”

“Christ he’s like a baby,” Hawk said.

“He’s got amnesia, leave him alone,” Desmond said and wrapped an arm around him. “He’s fine.”

“He’s a liability.”

“Shut up Altair,” Jake poked him. “You’re a liability but we put up with you.”

“You do more than put up with me,” Altair sort of glared at him.

“ _Just because I suck your dick doesn’t mean you aren’t a trial, Altair.”_

“Jacob!” Altair yelled at him.

Desmond pressed his hand over his eyes with a sigh. “What’d he say?” Tommy asked him.

“You don’t wanna know,” Desmond said.

“Are they… always like this?”

“Yes,” Hawk and Ezio said at the same time. “They were even worse while we were searching for Desmond,” Ezio said.

“The sexual tension was going to kill one of them,” Hawk rolled his eyes. “That or they were going to put each other Under,” Hawk shrugged.

“Gah. Both of you be quiet,” Altair scowled at them.

“I mean it was really funny those five years,” Ezio said with a smile. “You were so cute, Altair,” Ezio pinched Altair’s cheek and only because Jake bodily grabbed his arm did Altair just not punch him right in the face.

“You ran away from home, and met these three?” Tommy clarified with Desmond, Altair and Ezio completely ignoring them.

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Desmond. They’re crazy people,” Tommy said.

“Yeah, basically,” he nodded. Tommy just rose an eyebrow at him. “They grow on you, trust me.”

“I know like five people total in the entire world and these ones are the craziest ones so far.”

“Don’t worry, not all of them are like this,” Desmond assured him. “Lucy is super normal and amazing. And pretty. She’s really pretty. Cain is pretty normal too, surprisingly, even if he is kinda an asshole. Clay is… weird, but cool. Shaun and Rebecca are also cool and they are super normal to the point of boring. And-

“Is everything all right over here?”

Desmond glanced up. “Dad!” Tommy perked up immediately. Andrew was standing behind the immortals while they argued. About what Desmond had no idea. They did stop when Tommy mentioned dad.

“Andrew,” Altair growled, looking behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my children. That a problem?” Andrew asked coldly. Desmond hadn’t seen Andrew give anyone the ice but him before. It was almost on par with Altair’s. Almost.

Altair looked at Desmond. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

“Desmond’s friends are really weird, dad,” Tommy said.

“Yes, they are.”

“Also, Desmond’s all fixed now. I fixed him,” he smiled at Desmond.

“Heh, yeah, he did,” Desmond grinned back.

“I can’t believe I have to deal with this.”

“Well, you do. Now deal with it,” Desmond snapped at Altair. For a second anger flashed through him. “This is a good thing. You should be happy for me. Especially because this is great for after Atlantis.”

The immortals were serious immediately. “This is not a contingency plan,” Altair said. Desmond gave them a look. “Fuck this.” Then Altair got up and walked off.

“Ugh. He’s so dramatic,” Ezio groaned. “Do you want to go deal with him or should I?” he asked Jake.

“I don’t wanna deal with his temper tantrum right now,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Just go find Cain. He can deal with it.”

“Ooh, good idea,” and Ezio got up to go after Altair.

“Who’s Cain?” Tommy asked.

“Mmmm,” Desmond didn’t know how to answer that.

“Altair’s ex-ex-best friend,” Jacob said.

“So… best friend?” Tommy asked.

“It's complicated.”

“ _Very_ complicated,” Desmond said. “I’m sure he’ll love you. He loves new things.”

“Don’t get alone with him ,” Hawk said. “He’ll pick you apart. You don’t have much to pick so it’ll be rough.”

“Desmond, why didn’t you tell me you and your brother were finished?” Andrew asked.

“Well we came to, Demeter said Altair was looking all over for me and we were both hungry after the mental workout for twenty-six hours, which by the way, I almost died from thank you very much-

“What!? No, I was super careful,” Tommy complained. “I promise I was so super careful!”

“I know,” Desmond grinned at him. “You were great. But literally, we woke up, cleaned up, and came here for some brain food. Then Altair found me and was probably in the process of yelling at me before getting distracted and then you showed up.”

“I see,” Andrew finally sat down. “How are you feeling? Both of you.”

“I feel fine,” Desmond said.

“I also feel fine. I think. I don’t feel any different than how I felt when we had dinner together,” Tommy said cheerfully. “So I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Hawk said then looked at Desmond. “You’re… okay with this?” he asked, motioning to Andrew.

Desmond pulled a face. Really, he wasn’t. But he was just keeping it in check for Tommy. He really did not want Andrew sitting with them, he really did not want Andrew anywhere near him or Tommy. He just wanted Andrew to fuck off. But like Clay had said. The Farm didn’t exist. His childhood hadn’t happened. They were a normal family with normal problems. There were no such things as Assassins or Templars. There was just them. The Miles family who lived in Idaho from a medium sized town called Willow Creek (Clay’s suggestion and Desmond had loved it because of how it’d made Andrew squirm) with two kids in a normal house. Their family was ‘normal’. Until he could slowly unpack everything to Tommy that was all he needed to know. He didn’t need to know anything different. He could live his life in that blissful lie thinking his family was normal except for Desmond’s weird friends and seemingly god-like powers and status.

He looked at Tommy who was bright eyed and curious and so unlike him. Except was _so_ him. He was Desmond without the complex, Desmond without the powers, without the weight, without the guilt and burden. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. Shit maybe eight years old? Always ended up back at Duncan didn’t it? The start of everything. Of Desmond and Andrew’s fighting, of Desmond’s rebellion, of his desire to get out and away. Duncan had failed him. Desmond still loved him more than anything but he’d just been a kid who had too much put upon him. He couldn’t take care of Desmond. He shouldn’t have had to when  _he_ still needed to be taken care of. But no one had taken care of Duncan and no one had taken care of Desmond after that either.

Not Tommy though. He’d make sure Tommy didn’t suffer like it seemed like all of their generation of Miles had to suffer. _He’d_ take care of Tommy and do whatever he had to. Cause he was a god damn adult and even if he couldn’t protect the world he sure as shit would protect Tommy because no one was going to protect himself other than Desmond. So he’d put up with Andrew. He’d put up with Altair’s temper tantrums and Cain’s disapproval. He didn’t give a shit. _Nothing_ was going to turn Tommy into Desmond.

“It’s fine. Me and dad need to get on better terms anyway,” Desmond said, hoping he didn’t sound super strained.

“You sure?” Hawk asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Desmond said, nodding, not looking at Hawk. He was looking at Tommy instead.


	71. Cyclone

Desmond was looking at Tommy with a scowl, hands on his hips. The infuriating part was that Tommy was looking at him the same way. Same pose, same face, same expression, same stubbornness. Might have lost all his memories but your body didn’t just _forget_ things it had done its entire life. Tommy was still, for now, in his mannerisms, Desmond and it was super annoying. “You can look like that all you want, I’m still not going to take you to angel training,” Desmond said.

“I’ll just follow you then,” Tommy said, infuriating as ever. Now he knew how the others felt when he was being stubborn. “I want to help.”

“You help me by staying away-

“That’s bullshit,” Tommy said, shaking a finger at him. “You’d be dead without me and both you and Lilith said that I am a powerful psychic. I deserve it.”

“You deserve a normal ass life!” Desmond cried. “Do you not see that’s what I’m doing? After everything I’ve told you, and that dad has told you, don’t you just want a normal life?”

“I don’t know that life,” Tommy said. “I just have what you say, and I believe you, but I don’t remember. I don’t remember our house growing up or going to college or _anything_. Was that even normal? I have no idea,” he shrugged in an exaggerated manner. Drama queen. Desmond realized if he was saying it about Tommy he was also saying it about himself and wasn’t that a nice warm slice of humble pie. “This is all I know. And you seem pretty with it so I just have to assume this is just what we do, that this is normal. And if you’re going to do something I want to do it too.”

Desmond folded his arms. “No.”

“Yes,” Tommy said, mirroring him and only crossing them over each other differently but they even rested their weight on the same foot. It was literally arguing with a mirror. “I want to know who I am.”

“I’ve told you.”

“That’s fine but I don’t know that guy. Like I _feel_ like that guy but I’m not that guy. I can’t wait around to remember who I was. I need to be myself and do what I feel. And what I feel is that I want to know what I’m capable of. I want to know… to know— I don’t even know. I just want to know myself I guess and I won’t do that if you cut me out of everything. I could be helpful! Lilith said I was a pyromancer, _we’re_ pyromancers.”

Desmond sighed and looked away, chewing the inside of his cheek angrily, thinking hard. He had wanted to keep Tommy far away from the conflict or any fighting. Old habits and behaviors died harder than he thought. Tommy was still a lot like him. He still _loved_ to get in trouble. Desmond was pretty sure that was a general Miles description at this point. Duncan couldn’t stay out of trouble to save his life, neither could Desmond and apparently their mother (who was the actual Miles) got into all sorts of shit too. He had to imagine any other family Desmond might have had would be impossible people who went out of their way to get knee deep in the shit. Horrible trait for a group of people to have but it must have served them well and turned them into some bloodthirsty mother fuckers if Desmond was any indication. Duncan had only been a pacifist by choice but he’d seen the way Duncan destroyed training dummies. Duncan was as bad at him, he just controlled the urge act on it.

He looked at Tommy out of the corner of his eye. He could just let Tommy come. What would be the worst that would happen? He wouldn’t let Tommy fight at the atoll or at Atlantis. He’d lock him in a prison cell in Demeter before that happened. Tommy did have a point too. He deserved to know who he was and discover himself outside of the lies Desmond and Andrew told him, to become his own person. Tommy would never remember their childhood house or college or any of that because they’d never happened and Hera had been _very_ thorough with expunging his memories.

“Fine,” he finally said and Tommy jumped in glee. “You can come to angel training and we’ll figure out where you fit.”

“Yes!” and Desmond grunted when Tommy hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” Tommy said, smiling so wide it looked like it hurt.

“Yeah,” Desmond huffed. “But there are _rules_ ,” he said.

“What?” Tommy whined, releasing him.

“First off, if Lucy tells you to do something, you do whatever she says.”

“I have no idea who she is, but I will,” he nodded.

“Two, you can’t act like you know who I am. She and I are doing a good cop, bad cop long play with them. The people we’re training think I’m a demon-

“What’s a demon?”

“It’s…” Desmond had to think about how to explain it to someone who had no concept of religion or heaven and hell. “A monster from a very evil place.”

“Why would they think that? You’re so nice?”

“Because I want them to,” Desmond said. “It’s part of the plan we have going. I’m going to act like an asshole, and it’s _mostly_ , an act,” he said in a cheeky way. “It’s more important they love Lucy than they like me. It’s a whole thing, I’ll explain it later,” he promised when Tommy opened his mouth to ask. “Three, honestly just don’t talk at all. You’re going to have an angel vessel and be out for the most part but still; don’t talk,” Desmond grimaced.

“Why not?”

“Cause you like me,” he motioned to the both of them. “Bad enough to look like me. They’re gonna think badly of you.”

“Why does everyone hate me?” Tommy asked with a frown.

Desmond frowned too, “Not everyone hates you,” Desmond promised. “You just are so close to me. People who hate or distrust me will do the same to you. This is part of everything and why I didn’t want you anywhere near this, alright?”

“I guess,” Tommy looked down a bit. “Now,” he took a breath, “we need to go if we’re going to do this. We need to stop at Venus before we go see Lucy.”

“Why?”

“We need to get you a vessel that’s attuned to your abilities that can train you.”

“Okay, let's go,” Tommy said and followed Desmond out.

Desmond led him down to the mothership that was Venus’ mostly physical form located deep in the hanger. It opened when they approached and they walked up into it. “Don’t ask,” Desmond said before Tommy could ask a million questions.

“Okay. Uh, what do I do?”

“Well, just go around and touch everything around here,” he said when they got to the area where the vessel storage was. “Nothing in here will hurt you and when you find something you’ll know. It’ll react when you touch it.”

“Does it for you?” Desmond’s response was to grab a random vessel, which happened to be what looked like a puzzle cube of some sort. It started to glow along its gear seams. “So it looks like that, cool,” Tommy nodded and started touching things. Desmond watched him go and kept an eye on him. He touched literally every vessel, even digging through a box of crated Apples to find one. Every vessel was inert in his hand and the longer it went on the more concerned Desmond grew.

“Am I uh- doing something wrong?” Tommy asked Desmond when he’d made his way to every available vessel.

“No,” Desmond said slowly. “Venus,” he called.

“Yes, Desmond?” she asked in Altair’s voice which made Tommy jump.

“What’s he doing here?” Tommy asked.

“He isn’t. It’s Venus. She apparently hates herself so only sounds like people who are important to me.”

“That isn’t very nice, Desmond,” she scolded him and with Altair’s voice it actually sounded very convincing but she didn’t have the level of menace in her tone Altair could pull.

“These are all the vessels we have?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“No others? At all?”

“Well. there is Hawk’s but that wouldn’t do you much good,” she said. “And there are the ones your angels have but those are in use.”

“So this is it?”

“There are more in the world but these are the only ones we have access to,” Venus said.

“The Ilythians aren’t hiding any?”

“Not that I am aware,” she said thoughtfully.

“I did a full scan of their ships when they entered the ark. They were free of any angelic signals. The Ilythians notoriously did not have vessels because they resented the use of human slaves.”

“Yet they still had them,” Desmond said, unsympathetic.

“But if they died, they died and did not lock them in the hellscape of a vessel,” Venus said.

“Okay, fair enough,” Desmond shrugged. Tommy looked bursting with questions. “Any ideas why none of them react to my brother but nearly all of them do to me?” The two were quiet. He groaned. “Morpheus,” he barked.

“Because you are you,” he said.

“Who’s that?” Tommy whispered but Desmond just held a hand up. Not now.

“Which means?”

“I do not have a way I could say it that is not compromising to your current campaign,” Morpheus said. Desmond sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“In a language I know then.”

“Hey, I wanna know,” Tommy whined.

“He is a fake thing, Desmond,” Morpheus said in Arabic. “The same way Lucy is. I am aware they are real but to our technology clones and synths are not real.”

“But he’s me,” Desmond responded in like. “He’s still the freaking _stadalla_. Or something. He’s still me.”

“Yes, but that is exactly it. He is your clone. Clones are marked when they are created so we know what is one and what isn’t. He has your exact DNA… and a little extra, so that our technology knows he is not real. Probably a clone off its leash or otherwise unattended.”

“Ya’ll are _so_ speciest it makes me nauseous,” Desmond said.

“I’m sorry,” Morpheus said. “It is a mistake we made and in the future hopefully we will not do the same. We will do better.”

Desmond sighed. “So,” he switched back to English. “Bad is news you’re kinda broken? Not really but none of these things are gonna respond to you.”

“Oh… which means?”

“Means you won’t have an vessel teacher,” Desmond pondered that. “We could make a bridge and force a connection but those angels usually will hate you outright,” he said thinking of the three Cain had used to help Desmond with dream sharing.

“You do have angels in your garrison who know the same skills he does,” Hera said.

“Yeah?” Desmond asked.

“Your natural inclination from your family is pyromancy. You have a pyromancer in your garrison already. He could learn from all of your angels because he is your twin but pyromancy is the first one since it is a natural inclination.”

“Sweet!” Tommy said, smiling.

“I don’t want to take time away from their training,” Desmond said, frowning.

“Training another can be training for them as well. It forces them to distil their abilities into the most basics so someone has never done so can learn,” Hera said. “We would recommend your angels training others to further progress their skills more rapidly.”

Desmond rubbed his jaw. “I guess. Okay, only choice I guess. We could use Lilith-

“No,” Tommy said.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Desmond said. “Alright, we need to go to the training room and explain it, and you, to Lucy.”

“Okay,” and Tommy followed him out. “Who’s Lucy?”

“A really amazing lady,” Desmond said. “Who’s gonna slap the shit out of me when she sees us,” he groaned. Lucy didn’t know yet.

“Why? Does she hate you too?” Tommy asked him.

“No,” Desmond said. “She used to be in love with me actually. We’re just friends now,” he shrugged as they got on the lift and he dialed the right position. He gave Tommy a crash course on who Lucy was. About the whole Angel of the Lake thing and being brought back to life and making up some bullshit about how they used to know each other. He left out the forced love and just left it with that they used to have something but didn’t anymore. He wrapped it up when they got to the training room. He opened the door and Lucy was alone and looking at a tablet, reading something, while she sat in a chair. Training didn’t start for a little bit and no one was here yet. “Don’t say anything, just let me do the talking,” he told Tommy softly and he nodded.

“Hey,” he said to announce himself.

Lucy looked up and her hands went limp, the tablet dropping onto her lap. “Desmond?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, pointing at himself.

She looked between the both of them, sort of scared and a lot confused. “What the fuck?”

“So… it’s a _long_ story, Lucy. Can you maybe just roll with it?”

She gave him a look like he was crazy. “Are you Bleeding or something? Fuck, am I?’

“No, no nothing like that,” he said quickly. “It's just a whole deal.”

“What happened? Last time I saw you, you were being dragged out of my room by Cain and now… he’s here?” she looked at Tommy distrustfully.

Desmond sighed. “Tommy, give us a sec.”

“Okay?” Tommy was unsure and didn’t move. Desmond gave him a look. “Oh! Oh, that means I should go.” He walked out.

“What did you do? Who the fuck is that? Are you out of your _mind_?”

“So I might have erased all my clone’s memories and made him think he’s my twin brother because I was going to die by a Tiamat made aneurysm that wasn’t going to get fixed unless a psychic did something and mended it. So I got a psychic. Oh, and I have to pretend me and my dad are tight now around him. So I did what I had to and now he’s here and he thinks he’s my twin brother and doesn’t know _anything_ cause Hera did to him what she did to you and took away _all_ of the memories he didn’t want, which for him were literally all of them. And now we have another me, with the exact same powers, running around and I’m still working on the stuff we got going and now him and he wants to learn to use his abilities so that’s why he’s here and that’s what has happened in the past three days. If you want you can punch me, I probably deserve it.”

Lucy just stared up at him and then with a groan slumped and put her hand to her forehead. “I’m not going to punch you,” he sighed. “You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“He has abilities?”

“Yeah. Same type I have, meaning he’s got all of them.Basically. He just needs to be trained.”

“How do I know you’re you and not him?”

“Well, I have one scar. Altair gave him two and Hera had that healed too so now only I have a scar,” he said touching his mouth. Lucy’s eyes followed his hand. “And I’m way more powerful than him. He’s just an angel. I’m _stadalla_ , whatever the fuck that means anymore,” he sighed.

“Now, what about it?”

“Tiamat showed up in a dream the night Cain dragged me out and told me some stuff and now everything is all messed up and I don’t even know what the hell it means anymore.”

She sighed. “Okay. Okay,” she rubbed her thighs to sort of mentally shake herself. “So what does he want?”

“Well, pyromancy. We have a pyromancer, right?”

“Yes. John’s the pryromancer.”

“Ah shit,” Desmond cursed.

“What? Now what? Now what did you fuck up?”

“John knew my clone. They hung out. Demeter,” he rose his voice a bit so she could hear.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“Will you tell John to come to the training room early? There’s something important we have to discuss. Also tell Tommy-

“That’s the name you gave him, Tommy? That’s a terrible name.”

“He picked it himself before the mind wipe if you’d like to know,” Desmond said, sticking his tongue out at her childishly. “Take Tommy to our dad for a bit? I don’t want them to meet until I’ve had time to talk to John.”

“Yes, Desmond,” Demeter said.

“You sure about that?” Lucy asked. “You trust him?”

“John?”

“Andrew,” she said.

“Heh… yeah. So part of this shit is that I have to pretend to like him and I can’t fight with him. Clay’s doing and I kinda hate him for it. He’s the only one I can really trust with Tommy right now. He’s like three days old and the others all hate him. He hasn’t had time to make his own friends and all of mine aren’t going to like him. Also, Demeter,” he added loudly. “If you didn’t tell John _I_ need him, not Lucy, and Tommy that he’ll get to come back a bit later but we’re having a talk and I don’t want him to wait around by himself.”

“Good,” Artemis chimed in. “Because he looked very sad when Demeter told him he had to leave.”

“Yeah I know I’m such a nice person,” Desmond rolled his eyes a little.

“Desmond this is craziness,” Lucy said.

“It's what’s gotta happen. I don’t need or ask you to interact with him. I know your history with him. I’m not asking you to do anything that will upset you. I just ask that he’s allowed to be here. If you never talk to him that’s okay.”

“So you’re okay with my cruelty,” she said.

“The world is cruel and he’s gonna have to learn that. He knows you’re kinda a bad ass and that we… have a history.”

“Desmond,” she huffed, getting visibly angry now.

“Nothing graphic,” he promised, holding up his hands. “And I told him it was over. I think he’d understand if you didn’t want anything to do with your ex’s identical twin brother.”

“Fine,” she said. “And John? What are you going to say to John?” she asked and like it was a cue the door opened.

“You wanted to see my, Desmond?” John asked, coming inside.

He looked down at Lucy, “The truth I guess,” he said before turning around to John. “Yeah, I did. I uh, need your help. And its some bullshit.”

John chuckled, “My favorite,” he said sarcastically. “Though I wouldn’t expect you to stay out of trouble even if you wanted,” he said it almost wistfully.

“So you know my brother, Tommy?”

“Something like that,” John said. “Why?”

Desmond took a deep breath. “Pull up a seat John,” Desmond said and sat down without fear. A chair sprang up under him. “We got some stuff to talk about.”

“What sort of stuff?” John asked warily.

“A lot of stuff. About Tommy, and me.”

John took the seat Demeter provided, across from him and Lucy. Lucy hooked a leg over her knee, just watching them. “You mean that he’s not your brother?”

Desmond blinked and was so surprised he didn’t know what to say for a second. “You know?” John’s face moved in a way Desmond didn’t understand. Guilt and unease and fear. “Everything alright, John?”

“You’re going to tell me the truth about you and Tommy, Desmond?”

“Yeah, cause I need your help. But how do you know Tommy isn’t my brother?”

John took a deep breath. “I think… I need to tell you some stuff too. And I want to say, in advance that I’m _sorry_ I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t sure which one was more cruel.”

“What are you talking about?” Desmond asked.

“So, I know Tommy and you aren’t brothers because… because my sister only had two sons, and they weren’t twins. I know because my name isn’t John Smith. It’s John Miles, your mother Kaley was my baby sister. I’m your uncle,” John said like he just had to swallow an entire brick. Desmond felt Lucy staring at him and Desmond was just staring at John, not saying anything. He couldn’t talk. He just sort of felt like he was falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a really rough week for me holy shit fuck


	72. Lyrebird

Desmond didn’t know how he just knew that the front of John’s shirt was in his fist and he was standing. He wasn’t even sure what exactly what he was feeling except that it seemed like he was feeling _everything_. “Desmond, let him go,” he heard Lucy’s voice but it sounded far off. Desmond just looked down at John. The old man looked back at him quietly. The more Desmond looked the more he started to see the family resemblance. That didn’t mean he believed it.

“If this is a joke you better say so, cause I’m not laughing,” Desmond said, still half holding John out of his chair by the front of his chair.

“It isn’t a joke,” John said. “I really am your uncle. It’s why Andrew basically tossed me down into the dregs over the years despite the fact that I could have helped him.”

Desmond glared at him, “So what’s this? Some misguided want of family reunion?” he demanded.

“Well, we’re the only Miles left,” John said.

“You didn’t tell me before, why not?” Desmond jerked him a little.

John looked away a little. “I thought it’d be better if you didn’t know. No need to put that weight on you too, not when I saw you had found your own family.”

“So you just moved on to my clone instead since you couldn’t have your stupid family bonding?” Desmond was angry. He wasn’t exactly sure why but the entire thing just pissed him off.

“Not like you wanted him,” John snapped and then stood up properly. He was as tall as Desmond which wasn’t something said lightly. “Up till the last few days Tommy told me you wanted nothing to do with him. What did it matter? I was leaving you alone-

“You sought me out specifically,” Desmond said. “And then lied to me about who you were instead of telling me who you were. Instead, you were secretive and deflective. What the hell is wrong with my god damn family that we can’t talk to each other?”

John looked away again, ashamed to admit Desmond was right. “That’s what happens when you’re a family of Assassins,” John said helplessly.

“Bullshit,” Desmond growled.

“I should have told you,” John said. “I didn’t know how you’d take it. I admit, I was sort of afraid. That you wouldn’t believe me-

“I barely believe you,” Desmond still wasn’t happy about this entire thing. He was so fucking tired of being lied to by everyone. “I _trusted_ you, John. Now I sure as shit don’t.”

John winced a little. “I was also afraid you wouldn’t care. Our name means nothing to you. I know from questioning Andrew you never really knew my sister. I’m an old man, Desmond.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Desmond said. “I expect better from old people. Instead, I just keep getting let down by them,” he released John with a push and took a step back.

“Desmond,” Lucy said. He looked down at her. “It’s alright,” she said gently and reached out to take his hand. He let her because he didn’t want to feel like this. He’d wanted everything to be alright. He’d wanted Tommy to get what he wanted without complications. Something in his god damn life could would out right for once. It wasn’t fair. After everything he went through and thought maybe, now, things would work out a _little_ okay, everything just got messed up again.

“John,” she said. “You should have just kept your mouth shut.” John shrugged a little, dejected. “Do you still want to go through with it?” she asked Desmond.

Desmond rubbed his face with one hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “Do we have any others?”

“You,” Lucy said.

“I don’t have time,” Desmond sighed.

 “Then no, we don’t.”

“Fuck,” Desmond took his hand out of Lucy’s to fold his arms. He worried the scar on his lower lips, staring down John, practically glaring. John just stood there. “I don’t trust you,” he finally said. “I did, but now I don’t. You’ve lied to me John, the entire time we’ve known each other you’ve lied to me. If you weren’t valuable or useful to me now and in the future I’d just cast you aside so don’t think this is anything but me needing you because I have no other choice.” John sighed at that. “You brought this on yourself when you decided not to tell me when we first met.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” John said wearily.

“My brother wants to learn to use his abilities. He’s a pyromancer and you’re our only pyromancer. I want you to train him because I love him and want him to grow into a full person.”

“He’s not your brother, Desmond-

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you _dare_ lecture me about family, John,” Desmond pointed at him accusingly. “If you want to gain my trust again you’ll do this. Tommy is my twin brother with amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything from before the last few days. If I find out you’ve _told_ him anything while he’s with you I will be very angry and trust me when I say, you don’t want to see me when I’m angry, John.”

“I can imagine,” John said. “No one liked seeing your mother angry either.”

“And don’t talk about my mother. She’s dead. Let her fucking rest since none of you assholes let her be herself in life. Let her be god damn dead.” John sighed a little. “Are you cooperative?”

“You want me to train Tommy to use his pyromancy?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“And who I am then?”

“You’re just John until I feel like telling me. A lot has happened to him, I don’t want to overwhelm him more than he already has been.”

“Alright,” John said and was happy for that since he’d get nothing else.

“Demeter, you can tell Tommy he can come back,” Desmond said.

“You’re sure?” Artemis was the one who asked that.

“Yes. Why?” Desmond asked.

“Your brother has never seen you angry. As you sure you want him to see you like this?”

Desmond looked down and pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his wrist. His glyphs were blazing and that meant his face was glowing too. “Right,” he said and took a deep breath. He walked away from John and Lucy to be alone. “Send for him, I’ll be fine by the time he gets here.”

“Yes, Desmond,” Demeter said.

Lucy came up beside him after a few seconds. “You’re okay with this?” she asked him.

“No, but for Tommy, I’ll overlook it,” Desmond grunted.

She touched his arm and she looked at her. “I know you’re mad at him but don’t be too hard on him. Telling people the truth that will hurt them is a hard thing to do and you open yourself to all sorts of other hurts.”

“He lied to me, to all of us,” Desmond said.

“That isn’t a reason to hate him.”

“I don’t. Not really,” Desmond said and away from the situation he didn’t feel as angry as before. He’d been running on pure emotion and adrenaline but now he was over here and calmed down a bit. “I just feel betrayed.”

“I know,” Lucy said and took his hand in hers again. “But you know his intentions were good.”

“I guess. Good intentions don’t mean much when bad things happen because of them. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“And yours more than most,” Lucy said and he looked at her in surprise.

“Heh, yeah I guess so,” he agreed with a groan. “Mostly I’m just upset I didn’t know I had an uncle. It could have been different.”

“You still can.”

Desmond looked at her, “No I can’t,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that to myself, or ask anyone else to do it either. I’m a dead man walking.”

“You don’t believe that,” Lucy squeezed his arm.

“I do. What’s the point of getting to know your long lost family when your time is numbered in days?” She frowned at him. He took a deep breath. “I don’t hate him.”

“Good.”

“Desmond, Tommy is here,” Demeter announced.

“Okay,” he took another deep breath.

“It’s going to be okay, Desmond,” Lucy told him. “And maybe if you can’t have what you want, Tommy can?”

“What? Live by proxy you mean?”

She shrugged, “Why not? We both already are.”

“Right,” Desmond said and turned back to John and Tommy. Tommy was standing by awkwardly and John wasn’t looking at Tommy. Desmond walked back to the front, his back straightening a bit as he did. Didn’t matter how he felt. Had to put on a show, especially when the other angels showed up for training.

“So what’s up?” Tommy asked him.

“Tommy, this is John,” Desmond said motioning to John. “He’s…” he glanced over at Lucy who was just waiting to see what he’d do. “He’s our uncle.” John’s head shot up in surprise.

“Uncle?” Tommy asked, looking at John with surprise. “Which side?”

“Heh, mom’s,” Desmond said. “He’s a pyromancer and he’s going to teach you how to use your abilities.”

“Really?” Tommy asked and his smile was so nice it hurt Desmond to look at. Desmond couldn’t remember ever looking or feeling that happy. But everything was wonderful to Tommy. He was experiencing everything for the first time and it was all magical.

“Yeah,” Desmond said. “Don’t show off too much.”

“Pyromancy isn’t exactly a walk in the park,” John said.

Desmond and Tommy both scoffed. “Yeah, okay,” Desmond said dismissively. “Don’t make him feel too bad, Tommy.” Tommy just nodded with something like a giggle and it made Desmond’s chest swell a bit. Just because Desmond didn’t have the luxury to get to know what was left of his family, small it was, didn’t mean Tommy shouldn’t be allowed to do so. Desmond wanted to make sure Tommy remembered him as a good brother who took care of him and cared about his well being. For the first time, Desmond wondered if this was how Duncan had felt too. Duncan had wanted Desmond to remember him well but he’d still left Desmond, with the best intentions at heart. That was just what Desmond was doing and he wondered if he was doing the right thing by doing so.

For the smile on Tommy’s face, he felt it was.


	73. Spiraling

Desmond stood at a table where anyone of importance was sitting, looking at him. There was his ancestors, Cain, his father, Lucy, Baldur and Thor and Od with his _sengars_. Only the commanders were here for this and no one else had come. He'd offered Clay to come but Clay had said he wanted nothing to do with this planning. He thought Desmond going to Atlantis was stupid and a bad idea but had no better alternatives either. So it was just this small group and Desmond felt the heavy weight of their eyes on him. They didn't know why he'd asked them to come here, they just knew it was important. They would.

Today they finally planned their counter attack.

The table had a semi-holographic that laid out the geometry of the atoll to their best knowledge and positions of the Adjatev ships and equipment. Od had sent another scout numia to check on it again and it'd just gotten back today. So the information was as up to date as they could hope for. The atoll was an anomalous shape that almost looked like something but was nothing with no clear defined features except for a low rock outcrop in the very center that hid the entrance of the construct. The Adjatevs had set up a small base there for land-based armaments set up on heavy steel stilts to keep it above the high water line. The atoll was barely more than a sandbar and during very high tides most of it did get covered in water. But the base was small and hastily constructed. Perfect representations of the ships and numia were displayed on the table that showed exactly what they were looking at and positions were rough guesses based on upper atmosphere scouting of patrol routes and ship placement.

Desmond did his best not to fidget in front of everyone. He honestly hated public speaking or dealing with this kinda stuff. He just did it because he had no choice but if he had it his way he'd have crawled under the table. "I asked you all to come here because it can't be put off anymore. The end of October is rapidly approaching, just three weeks or so. I know not everyone agrees with what is going to happen but we all need to be on the same page. Once my angels are battle ready we're going to strike against the Pacific Atoll with them and a force of Ilythians provided by Baldur," he looked at Baldur and she nodded. "I would appreciate your input on these things. Most of you are _way_ older than me and have fought in many wars and I'm just me." That made Ezio snort and smile before schooling himself when Altair glared at him.

"And yet you are more than enough to scare most of the proeathans at that atoll away," Od grunted.

"This isn't an argument, Od," Desmond told him sternly. "Don't forget who's in charge and you're as honor bound as anyone." Od's eye twitched but he didn't disagree.

"They'll probably have put up an Onyx defensive position at the base," Lucy said. "That was the one we faced most of the time when we took the plantations and they were holding out for reinforcements. It's a stalling tactic until help can arrive."

"And how'd you break it?"

"Uh-" she looked down and her ears turned a bit pink.

"Don't be so humble," Cain said. "Most of the time she walked into the plantations and shot the Overseer in the face before they could call for help."

"Wow," Desmond's brows went up. Lucy just rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Well, I don't think that will work this time."

"An Onyx is virtually indestructible," Od said. "Only a few times in history has it ever fallen without shady dealings or things going on behind the scenes. It was developed during the long-standing war between the Drell and Lesh'v'rin to hold positions of importance so they couldn't be taken. At least until Artemis ended the war through force of being _stadalla_. After that the Onyx was used in all sorts of conflicts including battles in the First War and humans also used it to protect against proeathans coming and overtaking them. It was less effective for them for lack of… proper fortifications, but they held back many attack until reinforcements could arrive or they could safely retreat."

"So they hole up somewhere and shield themselves is that what you're saying?" Desmond asked.

"Basically."

"So then we need a bunker buster. What disrupts an Onyx?"

"Powerful proeathan interpaths could disrupt one but that is beyond us. There are none within the Hedren who are trained in interpathy," Od said.

"Honestly, we could just throw the angels at them," Lucy said thoughtfully. "We have enough destructive ones that it'd be a serious threat to them."

"What about all those ships?" Hawk asked, leaning on the table intently. "That's a lot of ships, and numia. A few thousand warrior proeathans are on those ships."

"Yeah, I'd… thought about that," Desmond admitted. "Our force is nowhere near large enough to take on all those ships. Any ideas on dealing with them?" No one was forthcoming but he saw Baldur and Thor talking in whispers at their end of the table. "Maybe we'll come back to that then."

"Uh—" Thor said and swallowed when everyone looked at him. "I had… a suggestion."

"Okay? Anything's better than nothing."

"Well, you have a couple illusionists don't you?"

"Yeah," Desmond nodded.

"Then illusion something scary. Make them run away so you don't have to fight them. Like that we have way more numia and ships coming."

"They would stay and fight that," Od told him sternly. "Not to mention it would be worthless once they realized there was no real danger and it was only a few numia."

"It was just a thought," Thor said weakly and shrunk away from Od, practically hiding behind Baldur.

"I don't know what proeathans are afraid of," Desmond said. "Except me of course. But I don't think an illusion of me, or a big me, or a bunch of them, would be very helpful. The proeathans don't like me, but neither, really, do the angels."

"They'd do it if I told them to," Lucy said.

"Yeah but they'd do anything you told them to, that doesn't count," Desmond said and Lucy smiled to herself.

"Make them fear god," Hera spoke up and appeared beside the table. A few others started when the other AI blinked into existence around the table.

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Desmond asked, putting his hands on the table and leaning on them a bit.

The hologram on the table changed and became shadowed. "A recent fear," she said. "Eve used it in her assault on the Toba construct and other conflicts because Saturn used it." They watched as a rain storm appeared in holo form and drenched the armada.

"You can't be serious. A rain storm? To scare some proeathans?" Andrew scoffed.

"It was enough for Od," Desmond said. "Remember our exhibition of abilities? Scared of a little rain." He turned to Od and Od's yellow eyes were hard.

"Many battles during Saturn's rebellion were fought in the rain, both illusionary and literal," Pluto supplied.

"It was said that she had angels who could command the very weather," Demeter said.

"And when she couldn't call a real rain she'd have grand illusionists working in great arrays to create a thunderstorm over the battlefield," Artemis said.

"It is a new fear, but a fear all the same," Hera finished.

Desmond rubbed one side of his face. "Okay," he said slowly. "Could she _actually_ control the weather?" he asked them. None of them answered. "Morpheus," he turned to the tall shadowed figure.

"We don't know," Morpheus said. "A great deal of actual records were lost or destroyed in the shuffle of the end of the First War. First War documentation was not considered a great enough importance for us to keep after the Toba EMP that destroyed much of our civilization. The documentation we do have is mostly from faceless religious texts."

"And religious texts are mostly lies," Cain said. Every single one of the proeathans at the table glared at him. Cain smirked, "What?" Cheeky bastard.

"If the claims made of many of our gods are true are not were up for great debate even before this but now even more than ever. But now we lost so much history and it's difficult to correctly determine truth from lie without some _sikaz_ users who are no longer in our population who could transcend their own bodies and view the world through the eyes of their ancestors. The peoples of the Widzarh nation were mostly known for it but they are either all gone because of the Adjatevs or are still in stasis and we have no idea where they are hiding."

"Clay does that," Andrew said.

"It is different," Morpheus said. "Similar, but different. So we don't know if Saturn could actually control the weather."

"Is it possible?" Desmond asked.

The AI looked between each other. "We are also unsure," Pluto admitted. "We don't know the full scope of angel abilities."

"But could I guess that if anyone could do it I probably could?" Desmond asked.

"Yes, possibly," Pluto said.

"And does it really scare you?" Altair asked the Ilythians.

"It would scare the soldiers," Od said. "Or the old."

"Thor and I aren't scared of rain," Baldur said. "It seems silly to be scared of a little water," and she shot a grin at Thor. Thor smiled back weakly.

"They didn't fight during the First War or see what battles were fought in the rain," Od continued.

"Did Eve ever command the weather?" Desmond asked Od.

"Not in actuality. She could create vast illusions, ones better than any of her other illusionists."

"I witnessed her create some of these storms," Desmond was surprised when Inti spoke, his deep voice making it seem almost ominous. "I was never allowed close to her but I'd see her flanked from a distance and clear skies would turn black to the sight of a million phantom rain drops. It wasn't just for her people either. She could affect the actual air and not just perception."

"But no actual rain?" Desmond asked.

"No," Inti admitted.

"An illusion we can teach the angels," Lucy put in. "We have a couple of illusionists, it's totally doable."

"That's one option. But let's say I do, somehow, learn to control the weather and made it rain, what would happen?" Desmond asked them.

"You would have to make it obvious it wasn't a natural storm," Hawk piped in. "Illusion or otherwise, so they know it's you."

"Okay, but what would they do?" Desmond pressed the Ilythians.

"I imagine some would run," Od said.

"Many would run," Pluto said. "Nearly all of the soldiers alive now fought in the Toba battle. Eve came in a silent hail storm. They all know what it means when a great storm comes. They die."

"I don't want to kill them," Desmond frowned.

"Well they don't _have_ to know that," Ezio said. "Just bluff. Who'd call your bluff?"

"Not many," Pluto said.

"Many of the Adjatev army is afraid of you. There was an event that happened just as we were broke away from the rest of the proeathans. They'd deployed your clone and tracked you down to the city you call Alexandria. The report back was you body locked an elite trooper with a single touch."

Desmond blinked and then started. That had happened! "I completely forgot about that," Desmond admitted.

"You did what?" Altair asked.

Desmond took a glove off and put it on the table. The hologram of the atoll covered in rain started to glitch and warp. "I break their toys," he said and put his glove back on. "Or what happened with the numia in Mexico. A proeathan was on my tail and found when I hid. I got away by touching them and locking up their armor. It slipped my mind entirely until this very moment."

"So it's true?" Od asked.

"Yeah, it's pretty true," Desmond said.

"I don't know the full story of what happened after that," Od said, "we left shortly after but everyone was up in arms and afraid. You could stop a trooper with a single touch. Terrifying for anyone involved. No matter what happens your name will live on for that."

"Great. Just… great," Desmond couldn't help but be sarcastic and sort of annoyed. "So they aren't just scared of me. They're terrified of me," he continued.

"More or less. They are prepared for the sake of preparing. They don't know where you'll strike, or when, but it pays to be prepared. But if you actually showed your face many would turn tail and run."

Desmond took a deep breath. "Okay, good to know. So, a storm. We'll have to train the angels and I'll make an attempt as well."

"You're actually considering it?" Altair wasn't the only skeptic.

"Well, yeah," Desmond said, brow raised. "Why not? Not like I have better things to do right now. Lucy can take care of the angels without me and they aren't so tense when I'm around. Baldur is training her people and I have heard no complaints so I assume it's going well."

"It is," Baldur said proudly. "I threw out everyone who had a problem working with angelic humans. Everyone who remains will hold the line."

"Good," Desmond said. "For once I'm not in threat of dying at any second. We have a reasonable plan that could scare off a good number of the proeathan forces at the atoll meaning we have significantly smaller forces to deal with. I don't see why I _shouldn't_ try to improve my abilities. Who knows, maybe I can do it in which case that would _really_ scare the proeathans. Right Od, Pluto?"

"They would be petrified," Pluto said.

"Exactly. As soon as I feel that the angels are ready we're going to move."

"And what about after the atoll?" Andrew asked. "Or what do you plan to do there?"

"I have no idea what the thing does alright?" Desmond was frank about it. "I just know it rose Atlantis, meaning it's got to have great power inside it. I don't know what I'll do but I'm sure I'll figure something out to destabilize the Adjatevs and from there we need to go to Atlantis. The Unnamed is the end goal. I need to get to it, or something."

"Why?" Andrew asked.

Desmond made a face but it wasn't an unfair question. He decided to tell the truth. "So there is this _ridiculously_ powerful proeathan synth in Apollo-

"That's a lie," Od cut in. "We did not make proeathan synths."

"It's an abomination or something? Yeah, I know. But they made one. Tiamat is a proeathan synth, and apparently _she_ went into the Unnamed. Something to do with testing it or something. She came out a fucking _god_. She's been taunting me about it and said once I went in I'd understand. Well that'd be nice cause everyone I talk to has a different idea about just _what_ I should be or how I should fix this. The Unnamed is how I figure it out and go about fixing this mess and lemmie tell you, it is totally my mess to clean up. So I need to go to the Unnamed and to get there we need to go through Atlantis."

"Which is impossible in its current state. The Adjatevs will do anything to keep you from the Unnamed," Pluto said. "They know it is the source of your potential power. It is the most well-defended point in the world probably since Eros took control of the city."

"I'd say, Minerva," Zorya scoffed. "Nothing short of divine intervention will get past those defenses."

"Well, that's what I'm for," Desmond said, motioning to himself. "When I finish at the atoll our armies need to be assembled, the numia scrambled and you need to book it to Atlantis armed to the teeth. Sound like a fairly solid plan?"

"Not the worst I've heard," Cain said in a long tone. "We will get there before you, what is the plan for that? We'll need to create a beachhead before the numia are shot out of the sky."

"That will be difficult," Od admitted. "Most of the numia that belong to us are civilian transports. We have very few numia for war."

"I used to have them," Artemis said. "But I destroyed them before Desmond took me out. I wish I hadn't now."

"We couldn't risk the Adjatevs getting into our facilities," Pluto said. "If we couldn't have it then neither could they. It was for the good of the war."

"I guess," Artemis sighed.

"We do have weapon capabilities," Venus said and Altair was the one weirded out the most by this since she was wearing his face, voice, and body only dressed like he never would. "A few numia are outfitted with missiles and things from the Vault but there are few fully armed numia in the Ilythian fleet."

"We could crash one of the big ones into the beach," Altair said.

"Are you crazy?" Od demanded.

"Only a little," his smile was mean.

"We cannot sacrifice one of ours for a suicide mission."

"I'm not saying they have to die," Altair rolled his eyes at Od's dramatics. "All they have to do is set it on the course. I know numia have some autopilot to them. Enough to keep it on a steep descent after the pilots have bailed."

"It'd be shot down before it could get to shore and land in the water. Useless to us," Zorya said.

"Not if it was straight down," Lucy said. "Numia don't 'glide' like planes do, their wings are far too small. We could just drop it where we wanted like a bomb."

"Fill it with extra explosives," Ezio said.

"You're actually considering this?" Andrew asked.

"Well, why not? What do we have to lose? If we fail to establish a beachhead any fighting on Atlantis soil would be next to impossible. We could use the crash as a way to block their line of sight to us," Ezio said.

"Or it could be a distraction," Cain said very calmly. "Start the attack on one side of the island and come in from the other while they're distracted by a crashed numia and whatever armed numia we have."

"There might be some numia armed with weapons at the plantations we liberated," Lucy added. "They sure attacked us with them before we brought them down. We could go and scout for them and bring them back if any exist."

"Is it a distraction or our beachhead?" Hawk asked.

"I think distraction will work better. Then we can come in above their scanners and at the last second dive and dispense our soldiers."

"What's the island look like?" Desmond asked and Demeter waved her hand a little. The hologram blinked into a new shape. It was a big island and most of the coast rose up in great cliffs but some of the coast led out into shallows and beaches to allow for boats or swimmers. There was nothing on the island. It was dead rock with rolling hills. At the top of a hill in the approximate middle of the island there was the arch of the Unnamed and a representation of the ruined city of Atlantis. "This is what we have to work with."

Cain stood so he could reach his hand into the hologram. "Come in here," he pointed at a line of cliffs. His finger left a mark of light in the area. "Land in the cliffs."

"It's further from the city than coming in here," Od said and motioned to one of the beaches.

"Exactly," Cain said and looked at the humans. "Didn't you do this in your petty war seventy years ago?"

"You mean Normandy?" Ezio asked.

"I don't know the name of it," Cain brushed it off. "But they went through the long way between England and France channel."

"And crash the numia and scare them at a closer beach," Altair said. "This fight won't be over quickly. We need the chaos to give us time to set ourselves up. And from the looks of there is nowhere to hide on this island. We'll be exposed and need to set up fortifications as quickly as possible. Getting underground would be best. Do we have any ways of doing that?"

"Through earth yes. Rock? That is more difficult," Od said.

"I'll get us through the rock," Desmond said.

"Oh yeah, how?" Altair challenged.

Desmond tapped his temple. "I'll teach myself to move rocks too. It's just a form of telekinesis and I already can do the most difficult version of it so learning to move things like earth and rock should be fairly easy."

"But will we be there? The atoll is further away than the Demeter to Atlantis."

"If you can set up some sort of defense in the time it takes me to get there. I'll do the rest. Who's our telekinetic again?" he asked Lucy.

"Mary," Lucy said, "and Hana also shows promise but she's also a precog and that's taking up the bulk of her training. If telekinesis is more valuable I don't see why we shouldn't ask her to foster that until after Atlantis."

"Sounds good. Talk to them, talk to their vessels, get us on the same page, they can help me when we get there," Desmond said and Lucy nodded. "Od, I want you to work out the logistics of the distraction numia and make sure the numia we do have are battle ready. Lucy's suggestion about seeing if numia survived at the plantations should be looked into. We're going to need all the firepower we can get."

"Will there be a signal of some sort so we know we should attack?" Altair asked.

"If something spectacular doesn't happen there's still Mercury," he looked at the AI who'd been quiet the entire time and 'sitting' on the table, legs swinging. "He can transmit across the planet, right?" he asked the AI.

"I can do anything you need," Mercury said. "Maybe I'll make all your numia sirens go off at the same time," and he laughed. Little jerk.

"You'll know," Desmond assured the others.

"Very well," Altair sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Distraction at the beach, we land on the cliffs and we dig in. What about after that?"

"We start for Atlantis. I don't doubt that once they know where we are they'll attack us. Once we can regroup properly we'll start pushing towards it. Depending on what Mary, Hana, and I can do we'll dig out new forward operating bases as we go," Desmond said. "We can't take long. The longer we take the more time the Adjatevs have to regroup and form up. They could bring in more soldiers from the bases and fuck us if we let too many of them be recalled to Atlantis."

"Alright," Ezio said. "Sounds like a good plan. And like most military plans it'll either fail, fail but we'll fix it, or go right by some weird stroke of luck."

"Such a vote of confidence," Andrew's tone was positively venomous.

"I've seen it is all. Plans can go right, or they go to shit. This is a pretty good one. Know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because these two aren't bickering about it," Ezio laughed and motioned to Cain and Altair. That amused Cain but Altair glared at him. "If they can agree on something then it's probably not the worst idea in the world."

"So then we're all agreed on what will happen," Desmond said. "I'll brief everyone before I leave for the atoll with the angels and we'll stay on target." There were noises of agreement and the meeting was adjourned. Desmond waited while everyone got up and left except for Lucy and Andrew. "Did you need something?" he asked Andrew.

"Could I talk to you a moment?"

Desmond glanced at Lucy, she just shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Alone?"

"If you need to say something you can say it in front of her," Desmond said.

Andrew frowned. "Fine. I wanted to talk about Tommy."

"Yeah?"

"What have you been telling him? He told me he met his uncle?"

"You mean John? Yeah, we met him. When were planning on telling me that we were related?"

"I told him to leave you alone," Andrew growled.

"Why? Desmond asked.

"He and his father were terrible people Desmond," Andrew said.

Lucy snorted. "Well if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is," she said, giving Andrew a look.

"Your grandfather was a tyrant and John is loyal lackey and yes-man. You think I was cruel? That is nothing to Troy. I know you blame me for a lot of things but if you want to know the truth of why we ended up at the Farm it is squarely Troy's doing. Sent his daughter away to be forgotten and not suffer the 'shame' of her," Andrew even did the finger quotes. "John did nothing to stop him. John is _not_ a good man, Desmond."

"Neither are we," Desmond said, staring his father down. "I don't know him. He deserves a chance. Just like I'm giving you. You could even be lying to me."

"Ask him if you want. Or Altair, I know you trust him more than anyone. But trust me-

"Which I don't," Desmond said and folded his arms.

"If John is anything like his old man he's not someone you want around Tommy. I don't want him hurt either."

"Your concern has been noted and will be taken into consideration when I talk to Tommy about his training."

"And that was the other thing. You're training Tommy in _pyromancy_? Are you sure that's wise?"

"He wanted it. He begged me. So I let him because he deserves to find out who he will become, away from what I am."

Andrew sighed a little, "I suppose that's fair," he nodded.

"Was that all?" Desmond asked.

"Yes. Tommy and I are having dinner together tonight, you should join us."

"I will consider it," Desmond said. "Now I have to talk to Lucy." Andrew nodded and with a groan heaved himself out of the chair and left. "Can you believe him?" he asked Lucy.

"People see things differently. What did you want to ask me?"

Desmond finally let his visage crack into sort of stressed out. "I have _no_ idea how I'm going to learn weather shaping or telekinesis strong enough to move rock, Lilith wouldn't know. What the hell am I gonna do?"

Lucy laughed. "That is so stupid," she said. "Why did you volunteer to do so?"

"Because I needed to look in control. And I thought I could do it. But how?"

"Well, if Lilith can't help you, you do have access to someone who does."

"I do? Who?"

"Tiamat," Lucy said.

"I'd rather not," he grimaced.

"If she's as powerful as you've told me she could at least help you get started."

"I don't even know how to contact her."

"Well she dream shared with you didn't she?" Lucy asked, Desmond nodded. "Well then just dream share with her." That really wasn't the answer Desmond was looking for. It also seemed like the best answer. Desmond wasn't going to look forward to this.


	74. A Real Bustard

He could feel Demeter watching him even if she wasn't saying anything. Demeter just had this _way_ about her. A worried matron over those under her watch. She didn't like Desmond messing with things in her ark but there wasn't anything she could do about it either. "Demeter," he said slowly, knowing she was watching his every move as he stood in the hanger, fiddling with the lift that went all the way up to the surface. She didn't answer him, pretending to be ignoring him. Didn't work. The AI were psychic minds, _real_ psychic minds and despite being digitized they still projected psionically. Meaning Desmond could feel them if he focused on them. He could feel her hovering over him. "Would you like to help?" Still no answer. "So if I break it you won't be mad?"

"I would be," she said and appeared next to him.

"Ah, there you are," he smiled easily at her. "A little help if you would?"

"I do not think that is wise," she said.

"Yeah well the alternatives are equally annoying. Now c'mon, help your favorite guy out," he smiled at her.

She did not smile back. "Which you are not," she said and his smile dropped. "I just have to listen to you."

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that," he sighed. "I just wanna go top side and see what I can figure out. Unless you _want_ me down here breaking your ark?"

"I do not want either," she said.

Desmond rolled his eyes a little. "Which one of you wants to help me?"

"Even if we did we couldn't. This is Demeter's construct," Artemis said. "We can only do things because she allows."

Desmond sighed, "Demeter, don't make me _order_ you to help me. You're a reasonable lady and the only normal one in the bunch, I'd hate to order you."

"Then don't."

"But you're being difficult."

"Because you are doing something that could potentially endanger everyone in my ark. I cannot allow that."

"Desmond, you're gonna have to order her if you want her to help. She's really serious about this," Artemis said and Desmond's brows went up when Artemis' presence just disappeared. More like boxed up. Demeter had probably kicked her out.

Desmond looked at the matron because she was. Beautiful yes, but middle aged with a stern cast to her features and skin nearly as dark as an Ilythian. She wasn't any of the ethnicities he recognized from Apollo either. "Demeter," he started, "who are your people?"

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"Why? They all dead? Did the Adjatevs kill them all?"

"If they did or didn't is irrelevant. Only that they are all gone now."

"I think they did. I know you're worried about the Adjatevs finding this place, but what happened to them won't happen here."

"Don't promise me things you can't accomplish, Desmond," Demeter said, looking down at him cooly.

"You forget who I am? I can do anything. Now, stop being so touchy and let me use the lift."

"No."

"I will command you, Demeter," he threatened. He really did hate ordering her around. She usually listened to him, no matter how insane the request. "You let me and Cain leave before, and the Ilythians come out and get us. Way less conspicuous than one dude out in the middle of the desert."

"You intend to test weather manipulation and earth moving," she said. "They will act as beacons to any passing numia and lead them right here."

Desmond huffed. "Demeter," he said and knew he was glowing a little. He was annoyed. "I am _ordering you_. Unlock the lift and take me to the surface."

Her holographic form shimmered angrily before falling apart like rain. Desmond heard the lock give a heavy click as it disengaged. Desmond stepped back and onto the lift. He waited a few seconds and with as much reluctance and hesitation as a disembodied consciousness could have, started the lift.

Desmond rose into darkness, leaving the hanger down below. As he neared the surface part of it opened up and he stood in the very middle of the lift to avoid as much water falling from the lake above as possible. The lift rose through the hole in the bottom of the lake, water kept back by metal siding that had risen up from the thick silt, and Desmond was out in open air.

The sky was huge out here. He hadn't properly been above ground in a few months. Actually, on the ground and not in a numia or being worried over by Ilythians for bugs. The horizon stretched on forever up here. Out past infinity and there were no clouds at all. The lake was a bit smaller than it had been when Desmond had first come but it was still fairly large. Animals came from far and wide to drink at Lake Chad and and he saw on the far side he was joined by a herd of antelope of some sort and a cheetah with her cubs on the other side, trying to beat the heat. There were also tons of birds.

What a magnificent heat it was too. Desmond started to sweat almost immediately in it. To think he'd _walked_ from what had once been Egypt, down the Nile and then made a straight cut across the sub-Sahara. In long sleeves and head wrap. He'd been absolutely insane.

Desmond walked out across the cat walk that had sprung up an inch below the water. To any casual observers, there might have been besides the animals it might look as though he was walking on water. He crossed over to the shore and the catwalk and lift sank back down into the muck. Desmond wasn't worried. Demeter might be annoyed with him but he knew she'd let him back in when he put his hand in the water to come back.

Desmond put the bag down he'd been carrying. It mostly held water so he didn't get totally dehydrated out here but he didn't go for the bottles of water. Instead he picked Lilith out of the back. The Chalice glittered in the sunlight. Bright, striking, and magnificent. For a second Desmond was mesmerized by it. Then he focused. He turned back to the lake and filled Lilith's Chalice with half water and half muck. Then he pricked his finger with the black band and let blood dribble into the water.

Lilith's visage appeared in the reflection. "What is it?" she asked. "Where are we? I do not recognize this place. It's so… quiet," as she said that she opened her eyes and looked around through the reflection in the water.

"We're top side," Desmond said as his own eyes blacked out and he set Lilith down in the air. "I need help."

"With?"

"I want to learn to control the weather, and how to move earth. Is that possible?" Desmond asked as he started to stretch a bit. It was early morning so the heat wasn't _too_ bad but that was like calling a hurricane a rain shower. It was still ridiculously hot.

Lilith seemed honestly surprised by this. "I don't know," she admitted. "Angels in my time were incapable. I have only heard the stories and legends of Saturn and her angels creating great storm fronts. The storms we made were illusionary."

"And earth moving?"

"It is a different use of telekinesis I assume. We did not use it but we did not need to learn to. Our talents were specific to war. I assume that angels who aren't so burdened to make war could exercise their abilities in ways not just for warfare."

"So suggestions on where I should start?"

"I wouldn't even know. I'm sorry, this is totally out of my understanding."

"Who would know?"

"No one. Any who would died a true death."

"Meaning no vessel?"

"Meaning no vessel," Lilith agreed.

"Hmmm," Desmond was bending down to grab his ankles. "I guess I'll figure something out. Go all earth bending on it," and he laughed at that.

"Earth… bending?"

"It was from a kids show I watched," Desmond said and stood up shaking out his arms and legs. "People could just control the elements. I doubt it's the same but it's a place to start at least."

"I suppose. I might also say, strong psychics, no matter the nature of them, may act as amplifiers to those of similar grandeur."

"What's that mean?"

"It means your… brother would act as a power amplifier if you both used your abilities at the same time to accomplish similar things-

"Nope. Absolutely not. Tommy isn't getting anywhere near any fighting. At all. He's going to stay safe in Demeter's ark with our dad until the fighting is over."

"You could still use him, as an amplifier. And weren't you the one who wanted him to be his own person? He could learn so much from this. Who knows, he might even turn out to be a stronger angel than you."

"I'd love it if he did, but no. He's going to be safe until…

"Until?" Lilith prompted him as the Chalice trembled in the air a little in unease.

"Until it's over."

"Something to think on at any rate. Is that all you had need of me?"

"Yes," he picked the Chalice up out of the air and went to dump it.

"Wait," she said and he paused. "Just set me down. It has been untold millennia since I have seen the sky." He looked down at her reflection and she had her hand 'up to the glass' trying to reach through into the open air.

"Alright," Desmond put her down gently, out of the way, and left her there.

Desmond walked away a bit, down the shore, before finding a place to sit that was fairly comfortable and not too muddy or too uncomfortable. He was dressed all in white today for this. Anything to help mediate the blistering sun. Desmond adjusted the hood of his long sleeved shirt and closed his eyes. It took him quite a bit to quiet his mind and then expand beyond his own person. At first he just used thread seeing and then he unfolded visible reality down to the essence of things. He sat there a while marveling at the strange two suns around him. One was up in the sky as the greatest power in the entire solar system, pure and radiant energy of colliding atoms. Below the second sun was just as blinding if only a bit smaller. Cain, the ancient and unknowable thing that would live longer than the sun in the sky. Live forever and meet infinity when it finally came. There were smaller, lesser, lights below as well and Desmond drew back his sight to see along the threads and saw them as pure strands that connected up to his heart like puppet strings. Next to Cain is was like trying to see a match next to a bonfire but Desmond knew his ancestors were there.

He moved between those two sights for a while. Inspecting the world around him like that before folding back in on himself and coming back to his own mind. He was relaxed and his mind felt supple and like it knew what to do. He expanded again but this time, it was different. This time, it was like he'd opened his eyes.

The world around him was a full panorama of what he should see if he had opened his eyes. He could see in all directions simultaneously and could see through the water to the little fish and amphibians that clung onto existence in Lake Chad. He could see through the mud into the ark's bulkhead and down into the darkness of the hanger. He couldn't see the ark itself but he knew it was there. Despite seeing through the water and mud, and bulkheads Desmond could still see the water and mud, and bulkheads.

This was a nice feeling but not what he was looking for to help him. The expanse collapsed and he was stuck inside himself again. He reached upwards this time as though grasping with clumsy fingers. He couldn't reach very far and shrank back down. That wasn't what he wanted either. He wanted to 'earth bend'. So how did he do that? This time he spread himself out across the ground, his consciousness touching every dip and feeling every particulate of dirt.

Dirt was bigger than photons and felt rough against his mind. Desmond could feel light and heat hitting him from the sun and if he wanted he could divert the light away. Lilith said he was strange that he could bend light so easily but didn't know how to use other forms of telekinesis. 'Earth bending' was just a way to use telekinesis. Force the very earth to move with your mind.

Desmond shifted where he was sitting and settled deeper into the earth. Deeper. He took the way he shunted away photons and used a rougher version to try and push the dirt. Nothing happened. He took a deep breath and tried it on the light because he knew what to do with light.

Desmond opened his eyes a little and looked down at his limp, open hand resting palm up on his thigh. The world was shadowed and bright at the same time and he squinted when he used his telekinesis to force light into a sphere. There was, strangely, no heat, just a writhing ball of photons that Desmond forced to stay in his hand. It was like he held a star in his hand and it shined as bright as the sun. Desmond squeezed his hand into a fist and the light shattered and escaped through his fingers as bright rays before escaping into the ambient light. Reaching down Desmond scooped up some dirt and sand in his hand and tried to do a similar thing he'd done with the light.

"AH!" Desmond cried when instead of forming a dirt ball the dirt instead exploded in all directions. It got in his mouth and eyes and he spit and rubbed his face vigorously. Desmond crawled over to his backpack and blindly groped for a bottle of water he used to flush his eyes of the dirt. "Well, that didn't work," he grumbled once he was satisfied with the state of his eyes.

But why didn't it work? He'd just done the same thing as with the light and instead of being contained it had gone all over the place. He stared at the ground for a bit in annoyance. Why wouldn't the dirt act like the light?

It came to him about twenty minutes later of thinking and he felt like an idiot. "Dirt isn't light," he said.

"I hope you didn't just come to that realization," Lilith's voice echoed softly from her open cup.

"No," Desmond scowled and hopped to his feet. "I think I just made a breakthrough, though."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah," and it seemed so simple and obvious now. Of course dirt didn't respond like light had. Desmond had been continuously redirecting the light to form an unstable ball because light traveled in a straight line continuously and Desmond had had to push it in other directions. Dirt wasn't like that. Dirt was stagnant and he'd pushed the dirt away at the same speed he'd push and direct light, which was as fast as thought, and faster than light. So of course it had exploded. You had to be more gentle with dirt. It was only doing what he'd told it.

Desmond held his hand out over the ground and closed his eyes again to go into a partially meditative state. He extended himself along his fingers and did what he did when he _called_ light down to the dirt. His palm was covered in a thick layer of dirt in an instant. "Heh," he opened his eyes and looked at his hand. It was like he was wearing a glove made of rock. "Awesome," he grinned and slowly (compared to working with light) curled the dirt up to the top of his hand. In a way it reminded him more of his bracelet and less like light.

As soon as he had that epiphany it clicked.

Desmond dropped the dirt and made sure his hand was perfectly clean of any specks of sand or other grit. He looked down at the thick black band around his right wrist. "Where'd you come from, huh?" he asked it softly, knowing it wouldn't answer. "A gift maybe? From who? By someone who wanted me to expand myself."

This time when Desmond held out his hand he picked up small rocks and all the loose earth above the packed sunbaked ground. He didn't need to but it helped him visualize it to raise his arm up and watch the soil and rocks follow his hand. When he thought about his telekinesis like he did about controlling the bracelet, as an extension of himself and not just magic, it worked. It was just like overcoming an Apple's control or learning to levitate or Tommy learning to mend. It was exerting his will on the world and overcoming it. It became because he didn't ask it to become, but because he demanded it.

Desmond let the top soil and pebbles fall back to the earth and focused downward. He needed this to learn to make a trench or a cave they could hid in in Atlantis. He dug deep and feeling sort of silly but also feeling like it helped he used his entire body and heaved upwards. His eyes widened in delight when he saw a large swath of dry, hard packed, earth and rock lift itself up from the ground like a great column. Then his vision swam and a headache slammed into the back of his head. He swayed, buckled, and fell onto the dirt going unconscious before he even hit the ground.

When he woke up again it was dark out and his skull pounded like his brain was the ball of a professional tetherball competition. He didn't think those had actually ever existed but he didn't really care. It _hurt_.

With a groan Desmond rolled over onto his back. The sky wasn't completely black yet and his entire body felt hot and dry like an old raisin. His tongue sort of hurt it was so dry. He licked his mouth and lips, swallowing a few times, before crawling over to his bag on his stomach. He found water and drank an entire bottle. He poured a second bottle all over his head and face and just lay on his back looking up at the stars.

"What the fuck happened?" he groaned.

"You're awake?" Lilith asked.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Desmond slowly pushed himself into a leaning position and looked around. The antelope were gone and so were the cheetahs. The wading birds had gone off to their nests and Lake Chad was fairly quiet. He looked behind him and his eyes widened. Behind him was a great wall of stone and earth at least a dozen feet high and beneath it was a hole half as wide and twice as deep. "I did it- I did it!" he screamed and jumped to his feet.

Bad idea. He fell to one knee, the killer headache back. He groaned and grabbed his head.

"What's the matter?" Lilith asked.

"My head hurts," he whined.

"I can't see what you did. Show me. I just heard earth move and then you fell down. Let me see. Let me see."

"Alright alright," he grumbled and expanded his eyes. He lifted Lilith's Chalice up with less effort than ever but it made his head pound and tipped it a bit so she could see out through the slanted water.

"Wow," she said. "You actually moved earth. That's amazing."

"Any ideas about my skull wanting to break in half?"

"You did it alone. You're untrained. You did it in the physical world and didn't test it out in the safety of my mind space. You also moved a _huge_ amount of matter when you're used to moving some of the smallest particles we know. You overexerted yourself. The Ilythians probably have some medication they could give you to help with the pain."

"Good. Good. Fuck," he pushed the heel of his hand to the middle of his forehead. It hurt _so_ much. "Let's go down then. I'm sure the others are freaking out since I told them I'd be back before it got dark."

"They freak out a lot," Lilith said.

"You have no idea," he said as he flicked her cup out to rid it of water. Carefully he also removed the mud from the thin and intricate lines along the inside cup and it made his head burn. He grabbed his bag and went to the shore. Desmond squatted and put his hand into the water willing the glyphs to appear. "Open up Demeter," he said through the pain.

He knew she was mad because she didn't make the catwalk appear right away and it was several more inches below the water than usual. She could pout all she wanted. He stepped onto the lift and it started going down into the darkness. Desmond crouched as it did so he could put his forehead against his knees. "One of you, I don't care who," he said through his thighs, loud enough for all the AI to hear, "tell Baldur or Od I exerted my psychic powers and need something to put down a _massive_ migraine."

"What happened up there?" Pluto asked.

"I moved earth and did too much and passed out and now I have a _killer_ migraine."

"Very well, I'm alerting Baldur now."

"Thanks, you're a pal, Pluto," Desmond was only a little sarcastic.

"Did you really move earth?" Mercury asked. Desmond nodded. "That's impossible," he said.

"And yet here I am, doing the impossible," Desmond said through grit teeth.

"It's impossible for proeathans," Venus said and Desmond was so surprised by the change of her voice he forgot to be in pain. She sounded… like him. "Humans can learn to do it since they're capable of telekinesis."

"That's so lame," Mercury said as Desmond just stared upwards at where Venus', _his_ , voice was coming from.

Before he could ask about Venus the lift came to a half and Baldur was waiting for him with Thor. She had a strange gun in her hand. "Pluto said you needed _venszin_."

"Sure, I guess," Desmond said, half walking half stumbling over to her.

"You _look_ like you need it," she said.

"And you look like you lost a fight with a sand storm," Thor said.

"Yeah I… kinda passed out for a few hours, on my face, in the dirt," Desmond said, wiping at his face again. " _Venszin_?" he asked.

"Turn around." He faced away from Baldur and she pulled his hood down. "Don't move," she said and put the muzzle of the gun against the back of Desmond's neck, right at the nape of his neck. He froze. More out of fear than anything. Had he just fucked up? The gun clicked and he felt a prick of a needle. Baldur pulled the gun away.

A few seconds passed. "Wow, that works _fast_ ," Desmond said, turning back to her and Thor.

"We are long-lived but don't have the patience to wait around for if we overexert ourselves. It's a mental relaxer. Go lay down for a while. You should be fine in the morning. _No_ psychic stuff tonight, though," she ordered him sternly.

"Why?"

"Because your mind is loose on _venszin_. It's a very powerful drug for psychics and using your abilities while on it might make you exert yourself even more. So no psychic stuff."

"Okay," Desmond said. "Now, I am gonna go find a shower and then pass out," he felt the two of them there and headed for his room. His mouth still felt like it was full of sand but as least his head didn't hurt anymore.


	75. Good God Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desmond acting evil is so amusing to me. Cause he's such a nice guy. But so good at acting evil.

Desmond stood, watching Lucy and her angels, totally invisible. She was coaching them on how to work together and to follow orders. It was all speed training at this point. To get things done as fast as possible and done well. Some of them worked well, others struggled but everyone tried. They worked hard and Lucy pushed them to work harder. She was better than Desmond would have been and was sympathetic when they struggled and stopped to help them. Desmond wouldn’t have. And then there was Tommy. Mr. Fucking Perfect that Lucy said everyone hated. Not because he looked like Desmond (but they did a bit for that) but because he’d already learned how to use pyromancy, visual illusions, and telekinesis. He was just _good_ at it and they hated him for being better than them with very little time under his belt or training. Not to mention he was one of the few who could keep up with Lucy’s orders. It didn’t help that their only other pyromancer, John, who everyone liked, loved him too.

So basically it was a microcosm of Desmond’s shitty life in a group of less than twenty people.

He watched their two telekinetics; Mary and Hana. Mary was getting stronger, able to lift herself and Lucy had her practice by throwing weights near her. Not at her, just near her so they’d make a loud noise if they crashed. Lucy told him Hana had agreed to try out telekinesis as well and was also coming along. She wasn’t nearly as strong as Mary and was just starting to lift small weights. He had no idea how strong Tommy was but he guessed stronger than either of them.

They were still in the middle of practice when Desmond dropped his invisibility and everyone started. Tommy knew well enough to not react to Desmond when he showed up and just looked at him and slunk back behind everyone. Lucy looked at him, “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go away.”

Desmond had his arms folded and looked mean with his hood up. He still couldn’t believe this extreme good cop, bad cop, shit worked so well. “Your angels are too weak for this,” he said. “They’re all going to die out there.”

“Fuck you,” Lucy said, blue eyes hard. “They’ll be fine.”

“They’re going to die because you’re too weak,” he told her. “Too soft.”

“If I’m so weak then I wouldn’t be able to dismiss you,” she said.

“I could make them strong,” Desmond said looking them over cooly. “Useful.”

Lucy hesitated. “They’re fine,” she said stubbornly.

Desmond’s eyes drifted over the angels. They rested on Mary and Hana. Hana looked away but Mary met his gaze. Mary had been one of the first people he’d singled out and one of their more powerful angels all things considered. He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to become more powerful. Powerful enough to win. Hana was afraid she was too weak and also wanted to become stronger, especially after she’d started to learn telekinesis and felt inadequate next to Mary. She’d been a precog before and been good at it but now she was a weak link. He also looked at their illusionists. They had four of them. Three could do visual illusions and one auditory illusions. Could they be trained to make a storm big enough to scare the proeathans at the atoll? Who knew.

“They’re weak. I can make them strong,” he looked at Mary and her black eyes met his unwaveringly. Her eyes widened a little when Desmond’s eyes went black and he lifted himself up off the ground a few inches and held perfectly still. She knew holding yourself was extremely difficult, especially without wobbling. Hana was staring at him now. “Who wants to become strong?” he asked. Mary wanted to but was too scared. “Shall I tell you then?” he asked and took one of his hands off his arm to hold it out. It was all for effect. He didn’t need the hand movement to control something with his mind but it did the job.

The others jumped away from Mary when she lifted off the ground a little. “You do,” Desmond said. Mary just swallowed, afraid but also impressed. She could stop fifty pound weights but not do so and lift herself. He turned his eyes to Hana and used the same hand to raise her up before. “And you.”

“Me too,” everyone turned around when Tommy said that.

Desmond looked down on him. He was kicking himself. He should have known Tommy would say something. It was the same stupid stunt Desmond would have done. Tommy looked back defiantly. He knew the game too, Desmond had explained it to him.

“You’re new,” Desmond said. “And like throwing fire balls. Stick to that.”

Tommy frowned and his eyes went black. Desmond fought a smile. Tommy looked terrifying with black eyes. No wonder people thought Desmond looked scary. Tommy lifted _himself_ into the air but Desmond knew it was difficult for him. His hands shook a little. Desmond’s mouth twitched. “Fine,” he gently lowered the girls back onto the ground. No one would get close to them now. They’d been ‘tainted’ by Desmond’s interest. Man he loved being the devil. It was surprisingly fun. Tommy dropped down to the ground as well and Desmond would still see his hands shaking until he stuffed them into his pockets.

“I like these three,” Desmond told Lucy.

“You can’t have them.”

Desmond leered at her and did a sweep of the angels. They shied away. “They don’t want them anymore either.”

“Those are _my_ angels. Find your own. Now get out.”

“Make me,” Desmond rose himself up in the air even higher so he could very pointedly look down on her with a mean grin. Lucy looked up at him and her own eyes blacked out. She looked pretty scary like this too. They made quite a scary pair.

“I said, _leave_ ,” she growled and the very air around them seemed to shimmer and vibrate. Desmond winked out of sight and everyone gasped. “Sorry about that, everyone,” Lucy said as her eyes returned to normal. “Don’t listen to what he says. He’s not very good.”

Desmond left after that and went back up to the surface. Demeter complained but obeyed and let him return. He didn’t bring Lilith with him. He spent the rest of the day moving earth and stone and sweating his ass off in the hot sun. He worked diligently and as the sun was setting he could move dirt, soil, and loose stones fairly easily. Packed rock was more difficult but he could do it if he tried. To not pass out again if it was too difficult he just stopped which helped a lot.

At the end of the day he put all the earth back as it had been and made it look natural, which was surprisingly difficult since he was a human and humans had difficulty with actual random things and he kept putting rocks at equal intervals to each other on top of the ground. Eventually he just gave up and let the rocks alone to return to the ark. He had dinner with his biological family (the others still hadn’t come around to accepting Tommy) and Jacob. Which was still weird. Hearing Jacob’s natural accent was weird.

Tommy grabbed him as he was headed out after dinner. “Let’s talk and walk,” Desmond said before Tommy could start.

“What was that today? Is it really something or were you just putting on a show?”

“It’s really something,” Desmond said as they got to a lift. He dialed where he wanted to go. “We need earth movers and telekinetic are the only ones who can do it. So I needed Mary and Hana.”

“And me?” Tommy asked.

“No, not really.”

“What? Why not-

“Because you won’t be coming with us.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay here when we go to the atoll.”

“Why?”

The lift stopped and opened. “Because it’s safer for you.”

“Des, that isn’t fair,” Tommy complained and followed Desmond out as he left the lift. They were in the tomato garden again. New plants were fruiting and hung heavy on their vines.

“I don’t care,” Desmond said and found a clear stop. He sat down on the thick grass.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating,” Desmond said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s where you clear your mind and focus on whatever you want. I use it to relax so I can actually sleep at night.”

He felt Tommy’s hesitation. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“Yes,” Desmond said.

“Why?”

“Nightmares. Stress dreams. My mind also isn’t as tightly sealed as I’d like. Adjatevs can invade it in my sleep and implant false prophecies, which has happened. Meditating helps me focus and calm my mind so I can actually sleep. Or sometimes I fall asleep while meditating.”

Tommy sat across from him. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Desmond said.

“How do you do it?”

“Close your eyes and clear your thoughts. Focus on your breathing,” Desmond said as he closed his eyes. Desmond went into a meditative state in a minute or so once he could calm down his racing, panicked, thoughts and felt at peace.

Ten minutes passed before Tommy said, “I don’t think I’m doing it right? You seem relaxed how do you do that?”

“Shhh,” Desmond shushed him gently. “Listen to my voice,” he said in a soothing monotone. “Close your eyes,” he said even as he opened his third eye. He saw Tommy as a shadow of tangled light bleeding out at the edges. “Now focus on my voice and don’t worry about anything else. Now, breathe in,” he heard Tommy breathe in and paused for a few seconds. “Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” He followed the pattern he’d used when he’d first started meditation. He’d had to talk himself into it like this and focus on his breathing and nothing else. Desmond closed his third eye once he saw Tommy was doing it mostly right. He kept speaking for a while and then opened one eye a little and saw Tommy had his head straight, breathing evenly. Desmond stopped controlling their breath and slipped back into his own meditation.

It was peaceful in here and with Tommy he felt safe. They sat there for a while until he heard and felt Tommy start to grow restless. Desmond didn’t let it distract him and just focused on his breathing, the beating of his heart and the way the air gently brushed against his skin.

“Desmond?”

“Shhh.”

“Have you tried using angel powers while doing this?”

“Yes. A quiet mind is able to more easily access angel powers,” Desmond said and just to show off started to make himself levitate. “Or _sikaz_ , but you don’t have to worry about that. Now shhh,” he said again. Tommy was quiet again and Desmond just sat there, in air, meditating. It was like something out of an x-men movie or something.

More time passed. Desmond didn’t know if Tommy was meditating or not. “Des, it’s pretty late. We should head to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Desmond said softly. He was relaxed and didn’t want to break the feeling of peace and tranquility he had.

“You sure? You want me to bring you a pillow or something?”

Desmond opened his eyes a little and Tommy recoiled from him. He opened his eyes the rest of the way. “What?”

“N-nothing. I swear your eyes looked freaky as shit.”

“Black? You know they turn this color.”

“No.’

“Bright blue then?”

“No. I think I imagined it. Forget it,” Tommy said.

“Alright.”

“I’m going to head to sleep. Don’t stay out here all night.”

“I won’t,” Desmond lied.

“Good. Goodnight,” Tommy said and Desmond echoed him as Tommy left the tomato garden.

Desmond was alone and liked it that way. He sank deep into himself, breathing slowly, methodically. He didn’t sleep, but he did rest. Honestly he didn’t know how much he actually could sleep anymore. Too many nightmares, too much stress. Even sleeping on the floor of Lucy’s room didn’t really help anymore. He was just tired _all_ the time. Desmond knew most people didn’t know. He held it together. The meditating helped a lot. He could rest but keep control of his mind. He hated he lost all control of it when he slept.

As the hours passed Desmond felt the rest of the ark, from the humans, to the proeathans, to the animals, fall into sleep. He picked out flickers of restless sleepers scattered like distant candles and a few prowlers who walked the halls unending. One was, of course, Altair. The other, a surprise, was Cain. Desmond observed them from a great distance as awake minds in the silent ark filled with sleepers. Their paths did not cross and eventually Cain went to sleep. As the hour ticked into the early morning even Altair retreated to his room to rest even if he didn’t sleep.

Desmond reached out and up, passed the ark and out into the savannah above. He wasn’t astro projecting. His mind was just aware of existence in a space he couldn’t see but it was clouded and muddy. He shifted a bit and tried moving his mind in another way and at once the scene became clear and bright. Above the night sky was a painting of the nebula, as perfect as a picture. More perfect than any eye could see. Desmond was reminded that some proeathans could look into the sky and see planets move around distant stars.

He’d mostly conquered earth moving at this point. Like everything he tried he just had to dedicate time to it and eventually he broke through the dam of resistance into easy ability. And he’d train Mary and Hana to move earth as well. Maybe one of them would understand stone better than him. But there was another skill he needed to try and learn. Lilith’s warning drifted back to him after his first attempt at large scale earth moving. He was untrained, untested, and doing so outside of a protected mindscape like most of his other angel training where he could just throw his power at a wall and saw what stuck. So he’d go slow.

Desmond allowed more of his conscious to trickle up to the surface. The sky was clear. How did he make a storm. He had never been very interested in meteorology. He tried extended himself as far as he could to see if he could find some clouds but he couldn’t get very far. Being a mile or so under the ground didn’t help either. The clouds were too far away. He wasn’t sure how to go about making clouds or forming a storm.

As early morning ebbed into later morning Desmond decided he’d had enough failures to make clouds. A gray dawn formed at the edge of the world as Desmond retreated back into himself. He sat there, still floating, as he had been all night, and just breathed. He might have dozed off for a few minutes at a time because he always found himself awakening to the feeling of floating downwards.

Before the ark start to wake Desmond stretched out and found Mary and Hana’s minds. He wasn’t quite sure how to do this so instead of entering their dreams he welcomed them into his.

He stood on a black mirror that stretched to infinity in all directions. Above a massive starfield was reflected on the floor, or maybe it was the other way around. Or maybe Desmond was standing on glass. Desmond looked at the stars sadly. He could still remember when the entire sky had been full to bursting with different colored stars of all different brightnesses. Now huge swatches of darkness stretched between them, most of them burned weakly with only a few brazen stars that shined defiantly against the darkness.

He saw Mary and Hana in the distance and walked towards them. As he did he used one of Tiamat’s tricks and gathered power and darkness behind him. He didn’t make wings like her, rather he let it coil around his feet and neck like a giant, black, snake. The girls felt him and turned to look before noticing each other with a start. “What’s going on? Why are you in my dream?” Mary asked once Desmond was in front of them and licked her lips.

“I brought you here,” Desmond said. “So technically you’re in _my_ dream.”

“What? Why? How?” Hana asked.

“Because I have power,” Desmond said. “Something you both want. Your silly _Angel_ won’t show you what real power can do. She doesn’t have abilities like you. She can’t help you anymore. I can.” Desmond didn’t know when he’d started floating in the dream, but he was. Probably because he was floating in real life.

The girls looked between each other. “What are you? Are you a human?” Mary asked.

“No,” Desmond lied.

“Then what?”

“You’re one of those ancient angels aren’t you?” Hana said. “Like the one in my vessel. Like Cerri.”

‘No,” Desmond said. “I’m much more powerful than those ancient ones.”

“Are you as powerful as the Angel?” Mary swallowed nervously.

He mulled that one over. “No,” he admitted. “The world exists in a balance. So we balance. She showed you the truth, but I will show you power like I know you will not know under her wing. I will show you power that will make the proeathans quake, like they did when we destroyed them so long ago, when they feared us.”

Mary was listening. Hana was having none of it. “I refuse,” she said. “I don’t want power.”

“Lie to yourself, not me,” Desmond said. “I know you want power. Or skill if you prefer. A use really. You envy Mary for her ability, because she is better than you. I can teach you the same power I have. The power to move the very earth under us, bend it to your will, and carve your will into the ground so no one will ever forget that you are not lesser because of who you are.”

“Is that true?” Mary asked. “Can you actually move earth? Like a lot of it and not just marbles?”

“I can. If you want this power then come to the surface and I will teach you.”

“We can’t go to the surface,” Hana said. “It’s strictly off limits to everyone.”

“Not if I command it,” Desmond said. “I will be waiting there for you. Find me if you wish to learn.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Mary said. Desmond rose his brows at her. “What are you?”

Desmond smiled and it was a nice smile. Or a nice smile while his eyes were black as night. “I’m a god, of course.”

With that Desmond severed the dream. Had to make a good exit on that one. Perfect one liner and he didn’t want to ruin it by letting them ask more questions of him.

Desmond opened his eyes with a sigh and looked around. Nothing had changed in the garden and he lifted himself up so he could put his feet down on the grass without having to get up from the ground. That wasn’t going to get old fast. He stretched with a groan. “Demeter,” he said around a yawn.

“Yes, Desmond,” Demeter said.

“Arrange another water satchel for me like yesterday. Four of them. Tell my brother I’ll meet him for breakfast and I’m authorizing him, and the angels Mary and Hana access to the lift that does to the surface.”

“Desmond I don’t-

“That’s an order,” Desmond said calmly as he left the garden.

“Yes Desmond,” she said but wasn’t happy about it. Desmond dialed the lift to take him as close to his room so he could shower and change before going to breakfast to see Tommy. He smiled to himself a little as he did. Last night hadn’t been too bad. Still didn’t know how the hell he was going to create a thunder storm but he’d figure something out. He always did.


	76. Fletching

Desmond and Tommy were waiting for the girls topside. Desmond had shown Tommy what he could do and his brother was now sitting in the shadow of a rock formation Desmond had made with nothing but the power of his mind. He had walked Tommy through meditating again and the guy was sitting there calmly. If Desmond saw Tommy start to fidget he'd just begin instructing Tommy on when to breathe.

Desmond wasn't meditating. He was staring at the sky puzzled. He still had _no_ idea how he was going to summon a storm out of nothing. The sky was too big to simply use telekinesis on and the particles required to manipulate them were too vast and tiny. It was a serious problem and Desmond needed to figure it out in the next day or so or tell Lucy to train their illusionists to make a seriously huge storm.

He looked over when he heard movement by the lake. A moment later the lift came to the surface and only Mary was atop it. She looked up at the open sky like she'd never seen it and Desmond knew she hadn't seen it in months. She just stared at it for a bit in wonder before looking around for Desmond. Desmond wore white while he was out here to help with the heat so she didn't recognize him out of his black and deep gray usual clothes. She walked across the bridge towards Desmond and Tommy.

"No Hana?" he asked her, arms folded.

"She said it would be like making a deal with a demon," she said. "And that I was crazy."

Desmond smiled. "You're not crazy. You just hate where you are. Subjugated, afraid, powerless. Come," he beckoned to her and slowly she approached the stone overhang.

"This wasn't here when we came to the ark," she said.

"No," he agreed. "I made it."

"How?" she asked as she stepped under the shade.

"The same way you catch weights, with my mind."

Mary looked down at Tommy, who had his eyes open now. "What's he doing here?"

"He also wanted power."

"Why me? Why did you pick me out of everyone?"

"Because you're useful to us," Desmond said. "Now sit." She sat but did so away from Tommy. "Close your eyes, we're meditating."

"I did that today already-

"There is nothing wrong with more meditating."

"Are you?" Mary asked. Desmond's face went tight and he smiled a little. He hated and liked Mary a lot for the exact same reasons. She wasn't afraid of him and she questioned everything he told her. They'd get along great actually. To answer her question Desmond blacked his eyes out and joined them by folding his legs and levitating a foot off the ground. "Wow."

"Your mind expands when it is relaxed. Where is your vessel?" he asked Mary.

"Here," she held out an Apple. "Hey!" she cried when Desmond took it and tucked it into the pocket of his thin hooded sweatshirt. "That's mine-" she made to get up but Desmond forced her back down. "Let go," she hissed. "That's my vessel, I need it," she reached for it.

"It is a lesson," Desmond said. "You do not need it. It opened your mind to the possibilities of what you can accomplish but it is an instrument designed to enslave our kind. Proeathans made these vessels as a leash. It allowed them to use a power that rightfully belonged to humans in a way it was never intended. They hate this existence and manipulate all who touch them to carry out their hatred upon the world that no longer exists. You do not _need_ your vessel to be great and knowing this is the first step to becoming stronger. You are stronger than the angel in this hunk of metal."

"No," Mary said, eyes wide. "Serrha is way more powerful-

"For now, which is why she can manipulate you as they have. They bent you to their will so you will be an instrument for their anger."

"She wouldn't. She's my friend."

"And she lies to you too? Sounds like an Apple to me."

"No! She's not like that. Give her back," Mary lunged but didn't move. Desmond had her pressed down with invisible hands. She reached out and Desmond saw the desperation in her eyes. It was like the looks he'd seen in other people who his ancestors had killed when the Apple had been removed from their person.

Desmond frowned. "No," he said. "Your Angel said this wouldn't happen. But she lied to you too. She knew these vessels were dangerous and gave them to you. Like giving a baby a lit candle. They'll burn you."

"Please, just give Serrha back," Mary begged, still reaching.

"Just give her the ball," Tommy said. "Stop being mean."

Desmond turned to Tommy. "Do you see Tommy here?" he asked Mary. She nodded but didn't even look at Tommy. "He never had a vessel. None of them like him because he's not weak of will. They can't enforce themselves on him. Yet he's more powerful than you and he's been training a quarter of the time."

Mary tore her eyes off the Apple in Desmond's pocket and looked at Tommy. "You had one, right? He's lying?"

"No," Tommy said. Desmond wasn't sure Tommy knew even how to lie or that he should if he wanted to make her feel better. "I learned without one of those things. Sorta. I learned with him," he pointed at Desmond.

Mary stopped struggling against the invisible bonds Desmond had on her. Her eyes cleared a bit and she no longer was frantic to get the Apple. "You're holding me," she said, "with your mind." Desmond nodded. "I can't do that. I can barely hold myself."

"Do you want to learn to be this strong?" Desmond asked her. After a moment Mary nodded. "Then know that this," he motioned with the Apple, "is a crutch. It taught you to crawl but I am not interested in infants. If you wish to be of use you must walk, you must run. Can you do that?" Mary blinked, looked at Desmond, then nodded slowly. "Good. Now we will meditate. Or you will. I have things I must see to," he stood up out of his levitation. "He struggles to find his way sometimes so be above what you think of me and help him if needed."

"Where are you going?" Mary asked.

"I need to go speak with someone. Don't worry about it," and Desmond left them there under the shade with the water bag and went back across the platform Demeter had left up. He stepped onto the platform and she lowered it into the darkness.

—

Lucy was with the nursery children. She hadn't been in some time apparently because the children were swarmed around her. She looked happy at least by the entire thing when Desmond found her. Of all things Cain was there as well, off to the side like he'd just been interrupted by her arrival. Desmond waited until the children eventually let her be and she looked invigorated by the entire thing. She spotted him, waiting, and went over to him. "Sorry," she said.

"Looks good on you," he said with a shrug.

"I guess," she said. "Only chance I'll get."

"Hmm?"

"Synths have a self-life, remember?"

"Oh, right," he frowned. "Honestly I try not to think about the fact that you're not gonna live to see the world you make. Makes me too sad."

Despite that, she smiled. "It's okay. I know I made a difference. More than She could have said. So, what's up? I thought you were stealing Mary and Hana away from me."

"Hana was a no-show," Desmond said. "But we have a problem."

"Which is?"

"You know how Apples corrupt greedy people?"

"Yeah?"

"Turns out they just corrupt _anyone_."

She blinked, "What? No. It should be fine. You talked to all those vessels. They knew to behave."

"I did," he agreed. "But they are still stubborn and don't listen. This one corrupted Mary," he took Mary's Apple from his pocket. "Not badly and I don't think they did it on purpose. She just was frantic to get it back. I don't think they're safe. They were useful to show people what they're capable of but the cost is a dependency. They need the Apple like an addict. I think it's best if you figure out how to take them away as soon as possible."

"How do I do that?"

"I have _no_ idea," Desmond admitted.

"Perhaps I could offer advice?" they both started when Cain spoke up.

"God, what is it with old people sneaking up on everyone?" Desmond demanded.

"We can't help it, unfortunately," Cain said with a cheshire grin.

"You have some sage advice, Cain?" Desmond asked him.

"I may," he allowed.

"Which is?"

"You do not take them," Cain said. "You simply destroy them. Isn't that the usual bargain? Destruction in return for service?"

"Yes," Desmond said slowly. "I have no idea how to do that. I don't even know _what_ could destroy an Apple."

"Jake said Ezio threw the two that weren't Hawk's into a lava flow," Lucy said. "No idea if that actually worked to destroy them, but it got rid of them. Can that destroy Apples?"

"It will damage them," Morpheus said. "How much I am unsure."

"Well, how _do_ you destroy Apples?" Desmond asked.

"They are made of mithril-

"Shut up," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?"

"I fucking hate everything," Desmond groaned and Lucy just giggled.

"What? What's so funny?" Cain asked.

"Mithril is a fake fantasy metal from an overrated book series," Desmond huffed.

"Hey, I liked them," Lucy said.

"I can't believe I ever kissed that mouth after you just said that," Desmond said.

"Same, honestly," Lucy teased him. Cain just looked very confused. "I'll see if Hawk has them on his tablet for you to read," she told Cain who liked that idea quite a bit.

"Well, that is not it's _real_ name," Morpheus said, "I just thought it'd help get the point across. I know you do not care for the mechanics of how we psionically shape and infuse metal so I figured mithril would be a good substitute as an explanation."

"Okay, fine, not so annoyed now," Desmond said but still folded his arms.

"Now, vessels are made of mithril and are almost impossible to break or damage by conventional means. To destroy a vessel you must damage the psionic core within the vessel that binds the mind of the angel to their level of existence. Once you do that the energy release will crack the vessel and render it useless."

"How do you do that?" Desmond asked.

"Explaining it would be difficult. I could teach-

"Don't have time, teach her," Desmond pointed at Lucy.

"What?" she asked.

"Train Lucy how to destroy vessels. It could work into the narrative. I did something and corrupted everyone's vessel so it's infused with evil. The only way to get rid of it is to destroy the vessel. That'll make the angels happy I'm sure."

"I don't know if I can do that," Lucy said slowly.

"I believe in you," he told her.

"I agree. You're more powerful than you give yourself credit for," Cain added. "Do not sell yourself so short."

"I mean, I'll try. You can teach me?" she asked Morpheus.

"In a sense. I am proeathan, so I can only guide you to finding the correct way since my kind cannot do this. If my influence is unhelpful I can ask one of the others."

"Hold on. _How_ do you know this works?"

"Saturn would often send threats to those she fought against in her uprising. You don't scare me. Apparently, she did that when she was young to terrify the proeathans. We figured it out by interrogating angels we captured from her company."

"And then what, turn them into vessels?" Desmond asked.

"Some of them were. I had nothing to do with it. Far before my time, young Desmond. I didn't even fight in my era's war. I watched the stars and wondered at the cosmos. Your anger is ill fitted for me for I am as innocent as any other civilian."

Desmond deflated a little. "But you could work with her, to show her?"

"In theory," Morpheus said.

"Would Lilith know anything about it you think?" Desmond asked.

"Unlikely. As far as we know Eve never released angels from their vessels."

"Alright. Then let's do that. Lucy, you can do it. I know you can."

"I'll try," she said.

"Have this old bastard help if needed, he knows a lot," he poked Cain in the shoulder. "And maybe we can find some black in those blue eyes of his, hmm?" Cain did not look amused by that.

"Very well," Morpheus said.

"Start with this one," Desmond handed Lucy Mary's Apple. "Now I gotta go back to them and teach Mary to move rocks with her brain."

"Sounds fun," Lucy said.

"Oh, it's gonna be a _riot_ ," Desmond said sarcastically and Lucy laughed a little. She knew how Mary and Desmond's personalities would get along.

"Don't break her," Lucy held the Apple loosely by her side and it glittered.

"Tell that to her, about me," Desmond groaned. Lucy laughed again and Desmond saw himself out to head back to the surface where, hopefully, Mary and Tommy were still meditating.


	77. Nimbus

The two were still meditating when Desmond showed up. Or rather Tommy looked like he just had his eyes closed and Mary was actually meditating. Desmond stood in front of them and waited until they noticed him. It didn’t take long with the sound of his footsteps and their ability to sense things beyond themselves because of their psychic abilities. “You’re back,” Tommy said and smiled up at Desmond.

“Yes. Time to get to work. Get up,” he motioned and they stood up. “What did your vessel tell you when you first learned to lift things?” Desmond asked Mary. “How did she explain it to you?”

“That it was a natural condition of my mind and it was stronger than others. That I could create a force to lift things, or block things.”

“And what did John tell you about pyromancy?” he asked Tommy.

“That fire is the force of energy leaving the body violently,” Tommy recited.

“Well, they’re both right, and wrong,” Desmond said. “All psychic abilities is the same. It is you exerting your will upon the world. Everything innately wants to exist in a particular way. Mass wants to remain inert. Fire wants to remain energy. Our minds are conduits for our will which is stronger than those natural states. It is similar to how you can move and speak without thinking. You want to do these things so your mind causes it to happen. That is how psionic power works too. I want to lift myself-“ Desmond’s eyes blacked out and he started to float upwards. He didn’t stop until he was ten feet up. “I impose my will upon the world.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Mary stared up at him with big eyes.

Desmond lowered himself to the ground. “I want fire,” Desmond put his hand palm up in front of him. The air burst into flame. “I demand combustion.”

“So could theoretically anyone learn any type of psionic power?” Mary asked.

“Perhaps. But mastery is a thing that does not come quickly. And all people are different. Their minds are different and understand things in ways others don’t. Just because you are a telekinetic doesn’t mean you can do all forms of telekinetics.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can move matter,” Desmond said. “But can you catch light?” he created a tiny star of photons in front of them. “Can you deflect photons?” he made his lower half go invisible. “I’m keeping photons hitting my pants from entering your eyes, so I appear invisible,” he said.

“What? How? That’s millions of photons a second,” Mary’s eyes were wide.

“It is something I can do because my mind works this way. Just as Tommy’s mind can figure out other psionic abilities and Hana could be taught telekinesis and you can probably do more than matter move. I impose my will upon the world, that I _will_ be invisible, and my mind does it without having to be directed. The Angel treats psionic abilities like a muscle. It isn’t a muscle. It is your diaphragm, it is your heart. It is your mind telling your body to keep it alive, and so it does. It is a natural occurrence perpetrated by your will to exist. Which is all this earth moving is.”

“That seems way more New Age than what my vessel told me,” Mary said. “That I can do something because I wish hard enough.”

“You aren’t wishing,” Desmond said. “You are _demanding_. Show me what you can do. Both of you, lift yourselves.”

Mary frowned a little but her eyes went black and she did raise herself into the air. She didn’t shake but she could only get an inch or so off the ground. Next to her Tommy was wobbling a bit and was higher. “This is all I can do,” Mary said.

“Now demand more,” Desmond said. He turned to Tommy. “Insist on stillness. You are low or shaking because you think it is the best you can do. If you know you can do better than it then it will be better.”

He saw them trying and Tommy did get a bit more stable and Mary rose a few more inches before she started to wobble and stepped out of it. “I don’t know how to do what you’re talking about.”

“Sit,” Desmond said. They sat. Desmond gently held them in place with his mind. “Now get up.” Neither of them could move.

“I can’t,” Tommy said.

“You’re holding us,” Mary accused.

“I am. Not get up.”

“We can’t, you’re way more powerful.”

“And yet I am only exerting a fraction of my power. A sliver. If you want to get up you must want to get up more than I want to keep you seated.” This was how he had first learned to do it. Altair bending him to the will of the Apple while he and Jake had watched TV on Hawk’s island. “Find something that gives you strength. Something, anything, that you want more than I want you to stay down.”

The two of them sat like that for a while. While they did Desmond brought the cover back up to keep them out of the sun. He sat in the air in front of them, holding them in place, and started to meditate. He’d know if they started to get it but this could take a while. It’d taken him a few hours. He let them able to move their hands though so they could eat or drink so they didn’t die in the heat.

While the two of them worked on that Desmond worked on his weather working. He left part of himself down with Tommy and Mary but dedicated most of his attention to this problem. He did as he told Mary and Tommy, to impose his will on it to just make it happen. Didn’t work like that for weather. The sky was too huge. Imposing your will was just the start of using psionic abilities. It was more than that but also exactly that. You had to both want it and understand the mechanics of it. You were not born knowing how to balance on two feet. You had to learn. You had to learn just how to use your mind in ways that it wasn’t used to. You had to command your own mind as much as the world around you and those things were not always easy to do or understand.

Desmond thought deeply on the nature of weather. The problem was that he was a warrior, a fighter, he wasn’t really a thinker. He was about as much a thinker as he was a meteorologist. So he knew shit about weather or how it worked. He had a basic understanding of how it worked from watching the weather channel and lessons on the Farm that went over the water cycle. But the full scope of weather? The thing that spanned the globe and affected everything on the planet? He had no idea what he was doing.

For a while, he made about as much headway with the weather as Mary and Tommy did in standing up. Then he felt one of them move a little and it distracted him from his thoughts on storms. It was Tommy, unsurprising. He ran out of steam quickly and while he moved a little first he didn’t go on to stand up. The two were quiet again and Desmond went back to what he’d been thinking about.

He was just going over everything he knew about any sort of atmospheric condition in his head at this point. From stupid Weather Channel diagrams to dumb internet memes, photographs of clouds and any useful information. He couldn’t remember any of it perfectly of course. He did his best but he just had no interest in it so he’d never actually taken the time to learn anything real about it. It was starting to really frustrate him since his usual ‘bang your head against the way enough and you’ll figure something out’ technique wasn’t cutting it this time.

Desmond opened his eyes when one of them stood up. He smiled. It was Mary. “Well done,” Desmond said.

“Thanks. That was a horrible experience.”

“Even worse than being enslaved to proeathans?”

“At least I could move. The pressure you exerted was so minor I hardly noticed it but I also couldn’t move and that was terrifying.”

“But you figured it out,” Desmond nodded wisely. “And how about you?” he asked Tommy.

“I’m coming up empty here,” Tommy admitted. “I don’t… what should I want?”

“Uhg,” Mary rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know. That’s something you need to figure out yourself,” Desmond said.

“Well that’s annoying,” Tommy said. “Alright, though,” he sighed.

Desmond turned to Mary. “You understand better now?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

“Good. Now levitate,” he ordered. Mary’s eyes went black and she lifted herself up the same amount she had the first time. Desmond rose his eyebrows at her and hesitantly she lifted herself further off the ground. She wobbled a little but managed to stabilize herself. Desmond smiled. “Good. Very good,” he stood up out of his own levitation. “We can move on then.”

“What about me?” Tommy complained.

“Until you can get up you won’t be ready,” Desmond said. “You need real conviction to move something as inert as stone and dirt. Unless you can get up from my test you don’t have enough. Just keep trying.”

“Alright,” Tommy grumbled.

Desmond motioned to Mary and they walked off some feet to give Tommy the privacy to get back as he was. The sun was past its apex at this point and their shadows were short and crisp on the hard dirt. “So now what?” she asked him.

“Now we’ll see if you can put that lesson you just had into practice.” Desmond reached down and picked up a pebble at random. “Lift it.” Mary did so without a problem and made it levitate off his palm. Desmond scooped dirt up into his hand. “Now lift this,” he said.

Mary’s brow furrowed as she concentrated. She stared at the dirt so hard Desmond was sure it’d catch on fire before she made it levitate. “I can’t. There are too many particles,” she sighed.

“Yes. You can,” Desmond said. “Don’t think of it as particles. Think of it as an object, like a marble, or a loaf of bread. Everything is made of particles and you still move them.”

“Yeah but those are atomic. They might as well not be particles,” she gave him a look.

Desmond took a breath for patience. “Just try it my way. Think of it as a single object, not as a collection of many.”

“Is that how you did it?”

“No. But you’re not me. I figured out how to move earth because earth is not light-

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I treat it like one continuous object all the same. It is a collection of objects so close together they might as well be one object, just like the atoms that make up molecules that make up the pebble.” Mary tried some more but she couldn’t get it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she said, frustrated and annoyed by the dirt and the sun.

“Let’s try again.” Desmond released the dirt and everything but the rocks fell away. “Catch the rocks,” he released them and Mary caught them mid-air. They quivered but otherwise didn’t move. “Now put them into my hand,” he held out his hand. One at a time she dropped them into Desmond’s hand. They repeated the exercise a few times before Desmond said, “Now put them into my hand all at the same time.”

“What? But-

“You can move more than one object at a time.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re doing it already. You can keep those rocks in the air while putting the rest one by one into my hand. Those rocks want to fall. Their state is to fall and you are telling them they cannot fall. Instead, they must be placed into my hand. Now just make all the rocks be placed into my hand, at the same time.” He held out his hand to her, palm down, and released the rocks. Mary stopped them and Desmond turned his hand palm up. He waited. Mary took her time and Desmond didn’t rush her. Then two rocks moved at the same time. Then three. Then four. Then, Mary, had them all moving at the same time, arcing up and put them in Desmond’s hand. “There, perfect, I knew you could do it,” he said as he felt Tommy break through.

“I did,” Mary said, all smiles.

“Let’s go back into the shade,” and Mary went with him. They drank water and Desmond tried to guide Tommy through the instruction of picking up dirt all at once. Unlike Mary his failure was that he could pick up only the bigger pieces and make the little ones wobble some but couldn’t seem to get them up. Mary ate while Desmond did the same rock exercise with Tommy. Then he instructed them to both pick up some dirt and place it in his hand. He put his hands on his folded legs, palm up, and went back to meditating while Tommy and Mary worked out how they would accomplish such a simple but impossible task.

Desmond continued with his own impossible task. That of weather working. In a meditative state he hoped half pieces would come together to give him insight on what to do. He wasn’t totally wrong. Something Mary had said made the leap and formed a connection. He was so surprised by said connection he didn’t realize it for a few seconds. It was about the pressure. That it was so light she barely noticed it but it was impossible for her to move. That was the same here. You didn’t notice changes in pressure when weather changed but the pressure did change. Weather followed pressure patterns, or something. He just knew that weather followed low pressure systems. It wasn’t about controlling clouds or wind. It was about manipulating pressure. He could work with that.

Of course knowing what he was supposed to do was completely different from actually accomplishing it. He heard Tommy and Mary talking but didn’t pay attention to them. He was trying to figure out how to affect huge scale pressure that would cause clouds to pour into the bowl he was trying to make. It wasn’t working.

The day stretched on and Desmond made no progress. That didn’t mean he was doing it wrong. It just meant he didn’t know what he was doing and hadn’t figured out the correct way to do something. The other two made more progress and he opened his eyes when dirt trickled onto his palm. Mary had figured it out first. “I moved dirt,” she said.

“I see that. And you?” he asked Tommy.

“Nothing,” he said hopelessly.

“Well. It’s getting late. We should go back into Demeter,” Desmond sighed and got up. “First, though. Tell me, does this feel like anything?” he asked the two of them.

“Feel like what?” Mary asked.

“Does the air feel more oppressive?”

“Well, you’re here. The air always feels oppressive around a demon,” she said without sarcasm or fear.

Desmond laughed. “Good point.”

“He’s not a demon,” Tommy protested.

“Also true,” Desmond nodded at Tommy. “But regardless. Get the bags. We should head down before it gets too late.” The two got up and Desmond focused himself out to the rock he’d used to form the shade. He breathed in and let it out slowly as he bent the rock to his will. It settled back where he’d ripped it up and became inert once more.

“That’s amazing,” Mary said.

“I know. You’ll learn to do that too,” Desmond said and motioned to the both of them. Desmond bled a few drops into the lake and the walkway emerged. They rode the lift down in silence.

“Where’s my vessel?” Mary asked as they were lowered into the darkness.

“Your Angel has it.”

“Good. I don’t trust you with it.”

“Heh. I’m sure.”

“Was this all there was?”

“Is it all you want? Are you satisfied?”

“No,” she said fiercely.

“Then it is not all. I will be up there tomorrow. Come if you wish. Perhaps you could entice Hana as well,” Desmond said as the lift stopped.

“I don’t think so. She wants nothing to do with it.”

“Think about it,” was all Desmond said and with a subtle motion to Tommy walked off. Tommy followed after him and they left Mary to find her way back to her room. 

“Why do you let them say those things about you, Des?” Tommy asked.

“Because I don’t care,” Desmond shrugged as they got into another lift. Desmond dialed it for near Tommy’s room. “Because what they think isn’t going to change reality.”

“But weren’t you on about how we _can_ change reality?”

“To a degree. Not even I’m a strong enough psychic to alter the fabric of reality,” Desmond said. “Or cause such changes in perception.”

“You say it like there is.”

“A long time ago,” Desmond said. “But they’re dead now. Died a true death, not even put into a vessel.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you for dinner, okay?” Desmond asked as the lift stopped and opened to the familiar corridor that led to Tommy’s room.

“Okay,” Tommy said. “I can’t wait to tell dad about all the stuff I’ve learned. Can he do it too?”

“No idea,” Desmond said. “He’s a bit too old for it.”

“He’s younger than uncle John,” Tommy protested, standing in the way of the door closing.

 

“Yeah but he’s mentally an old man, John isn’t,” Desmond said and that made Tommy laugh. “I’m gonna wash up. I’ll see you at dinner,” and he gave Tommy and poke to get him out of the way of the door. The door closed and Desmond dialed for his own quarters which were away from the rest of the ark with the immortals. He couldn’t wait to take a shower and get rid of all that grit and dirt in places grit and dirt shouldn’t ever be.


	78. Call of the White Crowned Pigeon

Desmond's head hurt. He'd been straining himself but he wasn't saying anything about it. The pressure thing was getting to him. He knew it was right, but after three days he still had nothing to show for it. He had no idea what to do or where he was going wrong. At least Mary was coming along, and so was Tommy. They were making more progress than he was.

He just needed some down time to think about the problem. But he didn't have the time. He literally didn't have the time. The end of October was approaching at breakneck speed. While the thirty-first wasn't the cutoff date every day after it they risked the end of the proeathan harvest and they'd be able to dedicate more resources to locating Desmond, locating Demeter, and killing everyone.

That gave Desmond a headache too.

During dinner he was quiet, listening to Andrew and Tommy talk. It was nice. It was like they were normal. Desmond wasn't sure how much Andrew had actually bonded with Tommy but it wasn't insignificant. More than he'd ever bonded with Desmond when he'd been a kid. For that, if nothing else, Desmond was grateful. "Des," Tommy said at one point and Desmond looked up from where he was picking at his dinner.

"Hmm?"

"You okay? You're real quiet."

"Just… thinking."

"About what?"

"I don't know," Desmond rubbed one part of his face with a slight groan. "Just, everything."

"Oh."

"You should relax some," Andrew said.

"And _how_ do you suggest I do that?" Desmond short of demanded.

"How do you normally relax?"

"He meditates," Tommy said helpfully.

"Seems lonely," Andrew said. "Why don't you go be with your friends? Maybe even Shaun and Rebecca?"

"I don't have time-

"Make some," Andrew gave him a steady look. "Who knows how long you'll have to be with them."

"What? Why would you say that?" Tommy said, panicking a bit.

"It's just a reasonable assumption with how events have turned out," Andrew said. "We are going to fight. You could die. You should spend time with them while you can or you'll regret it."

Desmond looked at Andrew and knew he was speaking from experience. Andrew had wasted time and not spent it with people who meant things to him and now he was a lonely old man with a dead Order and a handful of fake children. "I guess," he said and leaned back some. "Haven't seen Jake in a while, or Lucy. Not since we started going topside really," he nodded a little at Tommy.

"Go see Shaun and Rebecca too," Andrew said.

"Maybe."

"They miss you."

"Maybe," Desmond said again.

"Don't be so stubborn."

"Sorry. I can't really get over what they did to me that easily."

"Did? What'd they do?" Tommy asked.

"It wasn't intentional, Desmond."

"Not by them it wasn't."

"I thought you promised Clay we weren't going to fight?"

Desmond just scowled at Andrew and hated he was right. This time, the old man was right. "I'm full," he said and got up from the table. He heard Tommy try and get up after him but Andrew held him down. He dropped his dirty dishes off and left the dining hall.

"Well that went well," Venus said in his voice, sarcastic.

"I think it actually did," Artemis said helpfully.

"Why are you still on about that, Venus?" Desmond asked as he walked. Where he was going he had no idea. His feet knew the way.

"On about what?"

"Pretending like you're still following your programming? I know you're off it." Venus didn't answer him and he felt like she wasn't there either. "Artemis?"

"She thinks it's fun," Artemis said. "It reminds her of who she was when she was alive."

"Who was that?"

"I don't know. She knows, though."

"Hmm. Alright." He found himself at a lift. "Where am I going?"

"I don't know, Desmond," Artemis said.

"Doesn't even know where he's going and everyone thinks he's _stadalla_. Please," Mercury scoffed.

"For a cute kid you're really shitty, you know that?" Desmond asked.

"Who even asked you, pea brain."

"Mercury go away. You aren't part of the conversation," Artemis scolded him.

"I'm the communications specialist. I'm part of _every_ conversation," Mercury said smugly.

They started to bicker and sounded like actual siblings. It was better because Mercury sounded like a nine-year-old and Artemis a young teenager. Desmond got sick of it quickly. "Both of you, begone," he ordered and their presence faded. "Morpheus," he said, tiredly. "Where am I going?"

"I don't know. Would you like me to guess?"

"Sure," Desmond stepped onto the lift. It moved along a short course before opening up again. Desmond was at once surprised and not surprised at all at where Morpheus had put him. "Easy read then, huh?" he asked Morpheus.

"Your blood pressure is significantly lower and brain waves more at ease in the vicinity," Morpheus said.

"Cause I'm an idiot who's a glutton for punishment," Desmond said. He was standing in front of the nursery where all the rescued children were. Inside he could hear Lucy. He still didn't love her like he had. He, thankfully, had Tiamat to thank for that. But that apparently didn't matter. She still made him feel at ease. Maybe because she was the only one who could actually make him do _anything_ he didn't want to do, including telling his stupid body to stop.

He walked into the nursery. The children didn't notice him. They ran around, played with blocks, drew on the floor, built castles in smart sand pits, and sat clustered around screens showing shows from both old human channels and children programming that was proeathan in nature. And of course to one corner was a cluster of kids all sitting around Lucy while she read aloud from a story book.

He walked over to her and without saying anything just sat down on the outside of the group. If she noticed him she didn't react to him. Instead, she just kept doing what she was doing. She was reading Three Little Pigs. He just sat and listened like the rest of the children. The children listened like they'd never heard the story before. Desmond just sat and listened quietly. He knew the story of course but he hadn't heard it till he'd been an adult. They hadn't had children stories like this at the Farm. There had been stories but they weren't gentle like this. No one had ever read him stories as a kid, which was apparently normal for children. Duncan had never had anyone read to him so he didn't know he should do it for Desmond either and sure as shit Andrew wouldn't do it. He'd been happy with a goodnight hug and that had been it.

When he'd run away at first Desmond had spent a lot of time in libraries. Being homeless and too young to get a real job it was the best place to spend long hours. Even though he'd been a teenager he'd spent a lot of time in the kid's section. Assassins weren't big on reading, or novels, or stories. The only books other than school books around were ones about history or war. Desmond hadn't liked reading those because Duncan didn't like reading them either. A lot of books had been way too advanced for him and children's books had been easy to pick up. Not that he'd been illiterate, they were just harder to understand than kid's books.

Lucy finished the little story and the children were all very politely happy and clapped. Most of them got up and gave her a hug before wandering off again. That just left Desmond alone on the ground with Lucy sitting in the chair above him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," he said. "Came to hear a story I think," he gave her a smart-ass look.

"Very funny," she got up and tucked the book under her arm.

"Where you even get those picture books?"

"Hawk saved them," Lucy said.

"Why would he save children's books?"

"You know Alexandria?"

"Uh… I mean I was there like five months ago where I met Tommy-

"No. Ancient Alexandria."

"Hmm…? No," Desmond said as she walked over to him.

"In Alexandria, there used to be a great library filled with books from all over the world. To gain access to the city you had to bring a book. The library of Alexandria was one of the largest repositories of knowledge in the western world. Then Julius Cesare came and besieged the city. The library was destroyed and hundreds of years of knowledge and culture were lost with it," she said, standing above him, still holding Three Little Pigs under her arm. "It is considered one of the worst cultural catastrophes of our history, that all those books were lost.

"Proeathans did similar things when they came about. They learned where we stored our knowledge. They hit huge server farms first. They didn't even attack out governments, or our capitals. They crippled our information infrastructure and then bombed out major cities. But not government centers. They destroyed cultural centers. Libraries, monuments, cathedrals, and temples. Attacks on sometimes sacred or unethical targets got the world all worked up. The proeathans didn't even have to start the attacks on our major government centers. Humans did that themselves. Then all they had to do was clean up the mess.

"Hawk, and a few others, when they first saw what the proeathans were doing, raided major libraries and museums around the world. Collecting old books, classics or culturally significant artifacts. Cause the proeathans knew how to hit us low. We're nothing without each other right? And we're nothing but our culture. Including stories like the Three Little Pigs," she ended with the book in her hand like a talking point.

"Oh," Desmond said. "I never thought of it like that."

"Proeathans are different," Lucy said. "I'm sure you saw in Apollo. They share _nothing_ with one another." Desmond nodded. The different ethnicities had been very separate and unique and didn't even seem to like one another very much either. "Except when they have to, to survive. They don't care about their culture because it's so engrained into their species. They can be nothing but what they are, and only drastic things can change them. Something as inconsequential as books being burned means nothing to them. Books are empathetic tools. Proeathan are sympathetic, not empathetic."

"I didn't realize I was getting the lecture on proeathans here," Desmond said, sort of sarcastic but also incredibly intimidated. Whenever people who were obviously smarter than him talked above his understanding he just fell back onto a coping mechanism of sarcasm to not show how intimidated he actually was.

She smiled at him. "Sorry," she said and relaxed some. "Your question was just really stupid."

"I dunno if you've met me," Desmond pointed at himself. "I'm kinda _really_ stupid like eighty percent of the time."

Lucy laughed and she crouched down in front of him. "But really, what are you doing here?"

"Like I said. I have _no_ idea. I said 'Morpheus, where am I going?' and he brought me here."

"Hmm. How are you feeling?"

"Alright."

"Really."

"I'm really alright," Desmond said.

"How's Mary going?"

"Great, actually. We're going to move from dirt to stone soon, her and Tommy both. Sadly there's still no Hana."

"I tried talking to her. She said she 'wouldn't betray me' by going to learn with you."

"Wasteful," Desmond sighed and Lucy didn't disagree.

"Sleeping?"

"Sometimes, when I remember."

"You're starting to sound like Altair, Desmond," Lucy said and touched his knee with concern.

"Yeah? Well, I understand why he's like that at least. He's made a lot of mistakes in his life. He's got a lot of regrets. It's hard to sleep."

"You know you can come stay in my room if you want," Lucy reminded him.

"Yeah… feels weird though. Ya know? Made more sense when I was in love with you. Now it's just a weird pavlovian response."

"I'm still your friend," she said. She sat down next to him. "What do you do if you don't sleep?"

"Meditate. Try and become stronger."

"Don't push yourself too much."

"Heh. Yeah, right," Desmond huffed. "I can dreamshare fine now though. Like all the time. I don't think I actually dream anymore."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I guess. Adjatevs can't fuck with my dreams if I'm in control of them."

"Then that's a good thing?"

"Maybe," Desmond sighed. "I don't know," he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and held his face in both hands, looking at her. "Am I doing the right thing here?"

"I don't have that answer, Desmond."

"Yeah but you're like a quasi-religious thingy. Give me some quasi-religious insight."

That made her giggle. "You know I'm nothing of the sort. I'm still just me. If anyone if the quasi-religious one it's _you_."

"Uhg, don't remind me. I've already told a bunch of people I'm a god. It's so bullshit. But it's such a good one-liner too."

"Is this making you feel better?" Lucy asked him.

"What?"

"Being here, talking with me?"

Desmond blinked at her. "You know? Actually, it kinda is. I was all stressed out and you make me feel not so stressed out."

"Then consider that my quasi-religious thingy insight," she said and bumped into his shoulder. They both laughed at that.

"I appreciate it," he said. When he looked at her he was aware that they were very close. Unlike Lucy Desmond still had all his memories about when they'd been together beginning in Gafsa in Africa all the way to Tipal in Mexico. She had a look in her blue eyes that reminded in of that night after they'd gone into Hera's temple. He looked down at her mouth then back up to her eyes. "We really shouldn't," he said and got up. "I'm gonna go pick a fight with Jake or something. Work out some physical energy instead of all this mental gymnastics."

"Desmond," Lucy said after him. He looked down at her. "Sorry."

"Yeah," Desmond said as he took a step away. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story consider leaving a comment. I really appreciate it.


	79. Big Bird Little Bird

The practice yard was just that. A huge grassy yard. Barrier lines made of light designated specific areas to practice and Desmond saw all sorts doing their practicing after dinner. He saw Ilythians and humans sparring or practicing shooting at the range down at the end of the yard, both together and in separate groups. He also saw Ilythians using, of all things, more primitive weaponry like swords, spears, and clubs. Some were showing a few humans but most were practicing by themselves. He saw a dozen copies of Pluto stalking the practice yard dressed in the military armor of when they’d found him the second time. He offered help here, gave pointers there, or demonstrated in other areas. He’d been a general in his actual life, the highest general in all proeathan militaries, and maybe he missed it. At the very least it gave him some sort of purpose.

The communal practice yard had been Ezio’s idea initially. To force the ark’s two populations to mix and interact with one another on a more common ground of betterment. Desmond had thought it was a great idea and no one could argue with Ezio after that.

Pluto had said Jake was here with his brother and Hawk. He had to do a lap or two of the yard before he found the three of them. They were going through children Forms. Desmond walked over to them, standing behind them, just watching. Jake was teaching Tommy how to do Assassin style fighting forms. The most very basic ones they started children with. He saw by the way Tommy had his shoulders set that he was focused on what he was doing and that he was enjoying himself immensely. Desmond wanted Tommy to be his own person but some things ran too deep. Tommy couldn’t escape who he’d been born as. He still loved to fight.

After watching them for a bit Desmond cleared his throat. Jake jumped and turned around. “Oh, hey Des!” Jake said in a super chipper voice.

“Showing Tommy a thing or two?” Desmond asked, raising his eyebrow at Jake.

“I asked him to,” Tommy said quickly.

“I’m not mad,” Desmond said. “I would expect nothing less honestly.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Haven’t seen you in forever, bro,” Jake said and Desmond found himself with Jake draped over his shoulders with one arm. “Where you been hiding?”

“Above ground. As far away from you as humanly possible.”

“Awww, that’s so mean,” Jake whined.

“And you’re still doing that accent. What’s up with that?” Jake still had his New Yorker accent.

“What accent? I told you. This is just what I sound like, alright?” Jake gave him a look. “Now what you doing here, hmm?”

“Been using my brain too much lately-

“HA! Good one. That’s a lie if I ever heard one,” Jake said, poking his chest a bit.

“Psychic brain stuff, smart ass,” Desmond huffed and gave him a playful shove that just had Jake hold his shoulders tighter. “I haven’t done any real physical activity in a while. Thought maybe we could go back to the old days? We spar a bit.”

“Only if it doesn’t include then having to spar with Altair and getting the shit beat out of us,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I’m okay without that,” Desmond said.

“You fight too?” Tommy asked Desmond.

“Tom, my guy. You have never seen your brother fight? You think I fight good you should see your brother. He’s _amazing_.”

“I’m not-

“No. Little Bird is a natural,” Hawk said. “Give him a few years of some uninterrupted training and he’ll be better than the Big Eagle, and he’s an old fart.”

“You guys are too nice,” Desmond said and slid out from under Jake’s arm.

“We’re only telling it like it is, right Hawk?” Jake bumped Hawk in the ribs with his elbow.

Desmond squinted at the both of them. “When did you two get so buddy buddy? Last I saw you were still holding a grudge about that thing he did,” Desmond nodded at Jake.

“Cause Hawk’s good for something at least. Me and the old man kinda had a _huge_ fight. So I kicked him out for a little while. Hawk helped with that until I feel like dealing with him again.”

“Old man… you don’t mean Altair do you?”

“No. The _other_ old man.”

Desmond blinked. “You can do that? Shit is that why you seem so different now?”

“To be fair, I was different before, this is about par the course,” Jake said, smiling.

“What you guys fight about?”

“Ahh— nothing you need to worry about, let’s just leave it at that hmm?”

“If you say so. Should I be worried at all? No offense Hawk but that last time you poked around in his brain-

“It was consensual,” Hawk said. “He did not want to be present.”

“So now it’s just you?” Desmond asked Jake. “That’s… kinda weird.”

“Dude it is _amazing_ ,” Jake said. “Mind you, kinda lonely sometimes and it’s only been a few days, but I like it.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Tommy was eyeing the both of them critically. “It’s like when you guys talk about the world before the proeathans and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nothing you need to worry about, buddy,” Jake said and gave him a one-armed squeeze around the shoulders. “Let’s do some stretches so Des can warm up and you can watch us spar some. Give you a good barometer of how awesome you can be one day.”

“You think I could?”

“Hell yeah. It’s practically in your genes.”

“Jake,” Desmond said in a warning tone, “Watch it.”

“It’s finnnne,” Jake said. “Also, I told you, it’s Jacob. Get with the picture, Des.”

“Right, okay,” Desmond rolled his eyes and took off his shoes and socks like the rest of them. They spent ten minutes stretching while Hawk did sword forms with his white cane-sword to the side.

“So let’s agree not to grapple, hmm?” Jacob asked once they were done.

“That’s fine. Wrestling is too gay for me right now,” Desmond joked.

“What?” Tommy asked, confused even as Jacob laughed.

“Man, don’t I know that about you,” Jacob sighed wistfully. “So, no grappling?”

“No grappling,” Desmond agreed and got up. “And don’t go for the face. It’s like the only thing I got left.”

“Barely,” Jacob said and sank back into a stance. It was old and reminded Desmond of nineteen hundred years ago. It reminded Desmond of Altair. “Hey! No fair,” he protested when Desmond sank into a similar form.

“You gonna use old forms so will I,” Desmond smirked.

“Yeah but actually know the modern ones,” Jacob complained.

“Stop whining and just fight me so I can punch you,” Desmond sighed.

“Well, you are Altair are _definitely_ related,” Jacob said and struck at him.

Jacob didn’t have Jake’s speed. The movement was there but there was hesitation. Don’t hit too hard. What if he hurt himself? What if he messed up? What if, by some stupid miracle, he hurt Desmond? Shunting Malik away was a handicap. In the split second between Jacob striking and Desmond blocking he saw it in Jacob’s eyes that Jacob knew it was a handicap too. He knew he was disadvantaged in this fight and in every fight without a real warrior’s confidence to direct his movements. Jacob was a modern guy. Nice, metrosexual, and clean cut. Probably had gone to a nice high school in the City since usually lesbians who adopted were well enough off to afford shit like that. Or that was Desmond’s experience at least. Jacob was a nice guy who before he’d met the rest of them had probably never thrown a punch in his life. Altair had taught him some but even then it’d always been hesitant and more doing out of fear of what would happen if he didn’t. With Malik in his head it guided his movements, gave them confidence and strength. He could keep up with Desmond then.

Not now.

Desmond snapped his arm up, smacked his other hand down on his elbow and twisted Jacob down to the ground in seconds.

Jacob looked up at Desmond with wide eyes and Desmond sighed and let him go. “Holy— I haven’t… wow. Uh—“

“That was amazing!” Tommy clapped a little.

Desmond offered his hand to Jacob and hauled him to his feet. Jacob held onto the grip, looking at Desmond with bright eyes and a bit of a flushed face from how easily Desmond had just taken him out. “No offense Jacob, but you suck,” Desmond said.

Jacob sighed. “Yeah… kinda,” he admitted.

“You should make up with the old man.”

“I will,” Jacob sighed. “Before Atlantis. I wanna enjoy myself, y’know? So I guess you’re done with me then?”

“Not that I don’t _love_ embarrassing you, I was looking for an actual fight,” Desmond said and finally took his hand out of Jacob’s. The fact that Jacob had been holding it the entire time flustered the other man.

“Right,” Jacob said. “Well Hawk’s still here,” Jacob motioned to him.

Hawk had stopped his sword forms to watch the five second fight with only mild disinterest. “You want to fight me, Little Bird?”

“I guess. You can keep up with me and the only others who care are proeathans. Don’t really wanna fight them right now. They’d take it as a sign that they can challenge me to be _Ando_ and I really don’t feel like having to kill good warriors.”

“I see,” Hawk said and approached, his cane sword at his side. “Fight me as you are,” he held up the sword. “I won’t use a cutting edge.”

“I think that’s kinda unfair, Hawk,” Desmond said.

“Life’s unfair,” Hawk said in monotone.

“I’ve seen that thing in action. It could hurt me,” Desmond eyed the cane-sword distrustfully. Desmond had seen Hawk cut through proeathan body armor with the cane-sword and knew it was unimaginably sharp.

“It only has an edge when I want it to have an edge,” Hawk said. “Responds to will. Right now it’s just a stick.” Hawk smacked the cane-sword against his palm and while there was a smack there was no cut.

“It’s still unfair, you have a sword.”

“You are more armed then I am,” Hawk said and glanced down at the smart matter around Desmond’s wrist.

“If you wanted to test your sword against the smart matter, you could have just asked,” Desmond said.

“I find you do things more easily if you come to the idea on your own, without being nudged into it,” Hawk said.

“Alright Obi-Wan, tone it down a little,” Jacob said.

“Obi-Wan? I thought his name was-

“It’s a reference Tom, don’t worry about it,” Jacob said.

“Well, alright. Let’s see.” Desmond looked down at the bracelet. He’d only ever made it into things he could hold in his hand. A knife, ball, stick, or other shape. “Don’t bring a knife to a sword fight, right?” he asked Hawk. Hawk said nothing, just stood there in a fencer’s ready position. First he made it a knife because he knew how to do that. Then he tried to make it bigger. That just got him a comically large knife that had Jacob laughing. “Oh shut up,” Desmond scowled at him.

He tried again but he realized he couldn’t do a large sword. There wasn’t enough mass to make a two-handed sword like had been Altair and Ezio’s primary swords. So he went with a shorter one and came out with a cutlass. Well, that’d certainly work. He tested it to make sure it wasn’t sharp before facing Hawk again.

“I’m not really a fencer,” Desmond said.

“I know you know how to use one those, but we’ll just consider it a success if you can break through. How about that?”

“Pretty confidant you’ll win, huh?” Desmond asked.

“You’re good, but I’ve had a sword in my hand since I could hold it,” Hawk said without cockiness. “Some Animus training isn’t like real forms when it comes to a sword, Little Bird.”

“Ah. So I’ll finally get a challenge outside of Altair beating me up then?” Desmond asked, getting excited. Hawk nodded.

“Swords aren’t like knives either. So watch yourself,” was Hawk’s last bit of advice before he lunged forward with amazing speed.

Desmond parried as Hawk smacked his cane-sword against Desmond’s black, featureless, cutlass. Desmond jumped back to get some room and Hawk was on him like… well, a hawk. There was no joy in his eyes while he fought Desmond, no feeling or emotion. Hawk’s style was perfect because he couldn’t be tricked. He couldn’t be thrown off and he didn’t hesitate. If Desmond didn’t want to get smacked by the cane=sword he had to deflect it.

Desmond smiled as he deflected Hawk’s advances. He was a bit slow and gave a lot of ground but he didn’t mind. He was having fun. Sword fights weren’t like knife fights. Knife fights if you got hit that was it, you got cut. Sword fights were more elegant than that. Desmond only knew some from being in the Animus as Altair and Ezio since, of course, people didn’t use swords anymore. He knew enough to keep up his defenses but he saw what Hawk meant when he said Animus training wouldn’t cut it when it came to sword fighting. He had no idea how to capitalize on any mistake Hawk might make, or how to stop his defensive streak to break through Hawk’s form and go on the offensive.

They fought for a while. Desmond knew Hawk wasn’t going easy on him but wasn’t going as good as he could either. It was like when Desmond had trained with Altair and Ezio at first. They went at a speed they knew Desmond could keep up with and as training progressed they got faster and more intricate with their movements. Hawk was doing the same. He was pushing Desmond just enough to feel like he could keep up but not so much that Desmond felt like he would just outright lose.

Eventually Hawk must have gotten bored because one second Desmond had his cutlass in his hand, the next Hawk had it and Desmond could honestly say he had no idea _how_ Hawk had disarmed him. It had happened so fast. Hawk lowered his cane-sword and pushed it into his thigh to retract it into its telescoping body till it was a white rod as long as his hand again, and was looking intently at the cutlass. He touched the curved edge with his fingers.

It lasted only a few seconds before the cutlass shrank back into a black ball again. Away from Desmond’s will it couldn’t sustain its shape for very long. “Interesting,” Hawk said, looking up at Desmond. “Replaced one round crutch with another.”

“Not a crutch,” Desmond said and levitated the smart matter out of Hawk’s hand back into his palm. “Apples are vessels with wills of their own, who bestow power to those who have none for the return of servitude. This thing has no will. It is a tool. Doesn’t give me power on virtue it is powerful, but allows me to express my own. It’s just like your sword; it responds to my will.”

Hawk’s lips twitched. “Interesting,” he said again and nodded behind them. Tommy and Jacob were standing there, mouths open, wide eyed. A few other people had stopped to watch but when the fight had ended they went back to what they’d been doing.

“Des, that was so cool,” Tommy said.

“Eh,” Desmond rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “It wasn’t that great. I could only keep up with Hawk.”

“I couldn’t do that. That was incredible! You were both incredible!” Desmond smiled a little at him. He remembered when he’d been so much younger. The first time he’d seen Duncan and the older kids in Forms, sparring. Even after Duncan had lost an eye he could still fight, he just refused most of the time. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a good fighter. Desmond had been equally amazed at his brother fighting against other teenagers as Tommy was at watching Desmond fight against Hawk with barely any skill.

“Perhaps next time one of the Eagles will be around to try your fists on,” Hawk said and clapped Desmond on the shoulder. Which was kinda awkward since Hawk was a good six inches shorter than Desmond. “This was enlightening, and amusing, but I need to be off now. See you around, Little Bird, Crow,” he nodded at the both of them and then looked at Tommy. “You,” he added and left.

“Jerk,” Jacob grumbled.

“You know he’s weird,” Desmond said.

“Still a jerk. I mean he even gave Lucy a dumb name when we first met her,” Jacob complained.

“He’ll come around.”

“Does Hawk not like me?” Tommy asked.

“Remember there were going to be people who don’t like you because of how you relate to me?” Desmond asked him. Tommy nodded slowly. “Hawk is… apparently one of those people.” Desmond sighed. “Great.”

“Not fair really. None of the old guys like him,” Jacob said. “Even my old man doesn’t like him.”

“You’re joking,” Desmond huffed.

“Nope.”

“Well… Cain likes him.”

“Real consolation prize you got there,” Jacob said and gave him a single finger guns.

“I don’t even know who Cain is. Do I?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t think so. Let’s try and keep it that way. He’s a real weirdo. Even more than Jacob here,” Desmond jerked his thumb at Jacob.

“Hey! Man. You really are related. You’re all fucking jerks,” Jacob said.

“Related?”

“To Hawk, Altair, and Ezio-

“Who I don’t know,” Tommy said.

“Nope. But they don’t like you, unfortunately. Cause they’re all old and shitty human beings.”

“How are we related to them?”

Desmond looked at Jacob for help. He one hundred percent could _not_ tell Tommy that the three of them were their immortal grandfathers. Jacob just shrugged helplessly. “They’re our uncles,” he said instead.

“Like uncle John?”

“Kinda? More of a distant relation. Don’t worry about it too much. If and when they wanna meet you and get their heads out of their asses you’ll know who they are.”

“Okay,” Tommy said.

“Well, this was fun,” Desmond said. “But I think I need to get some rest.”

“It’s only like, eight,” Jacob said.

“Well when you don’t sleep any rest is good rest,” Desmond said chipperly.

“Des-

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he pointed at Tommy. “Topside.” Tommy nodded. “And _you_. Make sure the old guy knows we need him for Atlantis.”

“I will when I talk to him next time,” Jacob said.

“Alright then. Time to go try and figure out how I’m going to do something impossible, again. See you,” he waved at them and they waved back. Desmond went to one of his favorite gardens and in just a few minutes was meditating on the whole sky pressure storm bullshit.


	80. For all the Stars in the Sky

He was dreaming. But he wasn't dream sharing. It was a pure dream and he was in South Dakota. The sky was big and the mountains and hills were purple in this distance. There were no clouds and the sky was so impossibly blue it hurt to look at. For a second he thought he was going to fall into the sky.

Then he was grounded.

Weeds had overgrown the stones. There had never been a lot of care taken with them. Assassins didn't bother with the dead. Death was the failure to survive and only those who died of old age were remembered with anything else but wistfullness of what could have been. Desmond was standing in the little grave yard. Only about half a dozen small gravestones.

Weird. He hadn't been here in… decades now.

He knew it was a dream because he was standing in front of two grave stones and one of them had his mother's name on it. She hadn't been buried here. He didn't even know if she'd been buried at all. If what his father said was true she'd died somewhere away from the Assassins. In an assisted living home before the proeathans had destroyed it. Probably not a targeted strike. Just in a war path. But the grave stone stood next to his brother's anyway.

It grew dark and he looked up. The stars were always perfect in South Dakota. You could see into infinity there and no matter where Desmond had gone in America he'd never seen stars like the ones he'd grown up with in rural South Dakota. On dirt roads that had no names and led nowhere all there was was hills, reservation, and the stars. They were as endless as the hills, mountains, and the sky. Looking up at the sky and the stars he saw they weren't the same stars he'd grown up with. Or rather they were but he saw them differently. Instead of ones like Perseus, Orion, Pegasus and the astrological constellations he saw them as different shapes now. He didn't know how he knew but when he looked he saw Pluto, Demeter, Hera, Mercury and the rest of the proeathan constellations.

Then, right above him, he saw the Unnamed constellation. Five stars around a central one and four more that made a three sided square around the top of the symbol.

"Funny," he said to himself.

"I thought you'd find it so."

Desmond couldn't help it. He jumped out of his skin and grabbed at his heart. Tiamat's laughter was girlish and pleasant. "Lady! What the fuck?" he demanded. "Don't scare me like that!"

Tiamat, young and beautiful, not the hag she actually was, stood next to him. He hated her eyes. They were black and blue and freaked him out. "Except you're the one who called me," she said and tapped his nose.

"No, I didn't," he scowled at her.

"Yes you did, little brother-

"Don't call me that. I'm not your brother. I'm nothing like you."

"Aren't you?" she asked him. "Aren't you a _stadalla_? That makes you my brother if by birthright if nothing else. Or maybe you think I'm too old and you'd rather by my grandson," she teased him.

"I have enough grandparents, thanks," he said, deadpan and she laughed in a joyful way that made him smile a little as well.

"Yes. I suppose you do," she smiled and some of her black hair fell across her weird eyes. She brushed it aside and the ends twinkled with shed stars.

"I didn't call you," Desmond said again.

"Yes, you did," she said, putting her hands behind her back and leaning over to him, still smiling.

Desmond decided to just not argue. "Are you satisfied then?"

"Hmm?"

"With my clone?"

"Oh," her face split in two from her smile. "You went above and beyond what I thought you would do," she praised him. "I thought you would make him your crutch. I didn't think you would make him your weakness."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not for us," Tiamat said. "For others maybe but for us crutches only slow us down, a weakness paralyzes."

"And what's that for you? That's your old?"

She stopped a moment, her smile turning mean and the stars above seemed a little less clean and bright. Then she reached over and squeezed his cheek. "Yes," she said with all the bitterness of the elderly or sick who's body failed them while their mind thrived beneath a shell of humanity they couldn't fight against. "But don't you know it's rude to talk about a lady's age?" she squeezed his cheek so hard it hurt and he just winced and bore it. He knew he couldn't pull her hand away so he didn't bother to try.

"Sorry," he just said instead.

"Heh. Manners," she released his face. He rubbed his cheek, it hurt. "Guess that stupid little dragon finally got through." Desmond had no idea what she was talking about. "Now, what do you want?"

"I… don't know? I didn't call you here. I didn't ask you to do this."

"Irrelevant. What do you want?"

Desmond frowned. "Would it kill anyone to just do this shit for me?" That made her laugh. "Yeah, didn't think so." He thought. What did he need? "I need time."

"Can't help with that. You'll get that in spades when you enter the Unnamed, though," she said helpfully.

"Well that doesn't help me now," he growled. She just shrugged. "I need… I need help," he said.

"With what? And what makes you think I will give it?"

"Because you don't want to die in that box with your rat," Desmond said. Her face dropped to seriousness. "And bar someone rescuing you you're too old and frail to get out of there yourself. Not going to happen if I fail."

She folded her fingers together in front of her. "Alright. What do you think you need help with?"

"I am going to create a storm. A real one. I think I understand the basics but I can't do it. I don't know how. Or I'm not powerful enough."

"You are powerful enough," Tiamat said.

"You sound so sure. What if I'm not until I enter the Unnamed?"

"The Unnamed does not give you power, idiot," she said. "It gives you the understanding of how to use it."

"Well great. But I don't have time to wait till then for this. I need this understanding _now_ or our siege on Atlantis will fail."

"You're sure?"

"Do you know about the atoll?"

"Which one?"

"Which one— what? Wait, nevermind. Don't tell me, it'll just make me annoyed and I don't have time for wild goose chases. There's one in the Pacific. The one I rose Atlantis with."

"Ah. Right. I remember that one," she nodded. "I helped you there too."

"Maybe. Probably. Who knows, not me. I don't remember it. But I'm going back there."

"Why?"

"Because it amplified my power," he said like it suddenly made sense. "That's… what it does," he said slowly as it came to him. The memory of what had happened didn't come but the feeling of it did. The atoll hadn't _done_ anything specific. It had just amplified his natural ability like a huge speaker.

"Yes," Tiamat smiled. "Among other things."

"Which you aren't going to tell me?"

"Hehehe. Of course not. Where's the fun in that?" Desmond just sighed at her and she just found him amusing.

"I'm going to the atoll, to amplify my power, to help us in Atlantis. Give us the upper hand. But it's crawling with proeathans. The force I have isn't big enough to really take them on. So I need to scare them off. I'm going to do it like the stories of Saturn say she did it; I'm going to make a storm."

"And will you do what Saturn did when she made those storms?" Tiamat asked.

"Which was?"

Tiamat looked at him with her black and blue eyes that made his skin crawl. "Can't you guess? There's a reason Saturn is such a bad luck."

Desmond digested that. "She killed a lot of proeathans in the rain, didn't she?"

"She did," Tiamat said softly. The sun was rising beyond the purple mountains and huge anvil-shaped clouds the color of wet asphalt rose up from the jagged horizon. "She brought the rain but it didn't wash away the rivers of blood."

"Were you there for that? Are you old enough?"

"No," she said. "Saturn was well before my time. But I knew Eros, who came after."

"How? You were a secret-

"Who do you think _made_ me?" she asked. "Eros was am Empress like the world had never known. She was a heretical high priestess who entered the Unnamed and became more. She became a goddess. She overthrew the government of Atlantis and claimed it as her own. Slavery for humans was nearly nonexistant in Atlantis during her rule. For she hated it and hated what angels were forced to endure in those gardens."

"And she had you made?"

"She did. I was created in secret to her exact specifications, to be more than she ever could have been."

"But she was a goddess? A _stadalla_ fully realized?"

"Yes. But she was still too proeathan for herself. She wanted to be more perfect. She wanted to be what the Unnamed was built for, and not what it became for."

Desmond looked at Tiamat. "You're a synth," he said and she didn't even wince. "But the way you talk makes it seem like you were also a clone. Heh. I bet if I ever found antique images of Empress Eros she'd look a lot like you do in my dreams."

Tiamat's smile wasn't cruel or pleasant. It was just a smile. She liked that he'd pieced it together. "One would think that," Tiamat said. "Eros loved Saturn. In her eyes, she was as close to peace as our two species would ever get. She had a library dedicated to the most unlucky thing in proeathan history."

"And I'm sure as her duplicate you were allowed to read and listen and watch everything in there." He didn't let Tiamat answer him. "Then you know Saturn made rain. And if she was a _stadalla_ , and so are you, and you hate other proeathans, I can't imagine you didn't try to emulate her to scare them."

"You wouldn't be wrong," Tiamat said with a cunning smile.

"Then teach me how" Desmond said. "I've done everything you've ask of me and I still have debt to pay. You could do this one thing for me."

Tiamat glanced up and Desmond looked up too. The clouds had come across the sky except for where the Unnamed constellation was above their heads. "Were you anything else your request would be impossible. Only ones like us can change the nature of things. Is that what you want?"

"I know that's a lie," Desmond said.

"You mean those cain and abels you humans made? Changing the probability of things does not directly alter things, and you can't truely control the outcomes. You can only hope, and pray, and prepare. You're asking to affect things. Really affect things. What you're asking will have global consequences."

"Finally some progress then," Desmond smirked. "I'm going into that stupid arch. So you might as well prepare me for impossible things, sis," he teased her.

She giggled and her eyes shined. "Alright. Let's see what we can do."


	81. The Lightning Roc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!
> 
> I love when a scene I struggle with in my head turns out way better on the page. Cause I’ve had this scene vaguely worked out in my head for, I shit you not, YEARS, and never really like how it fit together with the story then it comes to writing it and boop, perfect.

When Desmond opened his eyes his face hurt. Tiamat was, despite what she appeared, a real old dragon lady. She liked pinching his face when he stumbled, and when he succeeded. But that had been a dream. He still rubbed his cheeks because they were sore.

“You’re awake,” Demeter said.

“Yeah,” Desmond said and got up. His legs hurt too. He’d been sitting, immobile, for a while. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” she said.

“Perfect.”

“At night,” she said. “The next day.”

“What?” Desmond rubbed the sand out of his eyes.

“You went into that meditative state two days ago. What were you doing in there?”

“Wait… _what_?” Desmond asked. “Two _days_?”

“Yes-

“What day is it? What’s the date?”

“The twenty-third,” she said.

Desmond swore up and down. “What did you tell everyone? Shit, how am I not being surrounded right now?” Demeter didn’t answer right away. “Demeter,” he demanded.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she said. “I told them you were top side, with Mary and your clone. They think it’s business as usual.”

“And Mary and Tommy?”

“Mary didn’t want to work without you but Tommy convinced her. You weren’t there but they still practiced. For a while at least. They didn’t stay up there as long if you’d been with them. Artemis asked why they came back early and your clone said because they didn’t know how to move forward.”

“Two days?” Desmond clarified.

“Yes. What were you doing in there? We couldn’t see you.”

“I…” Desmond felt like his head was full. He smirked, “I was learning to make storms,” he said.

“Impossible,” Demeter said.

“No. For you, maybe. But I’m a _stadalla_ , and there’s nothing that’s impossible for me.” Desmond stretched a little, cracking his back. Other than a bit of soreness he felt great actually. “I’m starving, there still food out?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Don’t let the cafeteria close before I get there,” Desmond said, leaving the garden. He took the lift to the cafeteria. It was empty when he arrived except for a few late stragglers and the cooks. They were putting away whatever hadn’t been eaten to be used for tomorrow’s meal as Desmond came up. He helped himself. He was starving. After grabbing some food he sat down and started to eat.

“Shall I tell Mary and your clone-

“Stop,” Desmond held up his fork. Demeter stopped speaking. “Refer to him by name.”

“It isn’t-

“ _He_ ,” Desmond said sternly.

Demeter huffed. “Mary and Tommy have asked about you more than the others. Shall I tell them you will be joining them for practice tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, eating. “Also, ask Lucy if she’ll come here. I want to talk to her.”

“Very well,” and Desmond felt her presence fade. He just ate and then went back to second helpings. The cooks gave him a stern look as he did so but he just grinned apologetically and darted off with more food. He wasn’t surprised he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten in two days.

He was putting his plate up to be cleaned when Lucy came. “Hey,” she said.

“Come with me,” he said and took her hand.

“What? Desmond— Where are we going?” she asked even as she let herself be dragged along to the lift.

“I’m going to show you something,” Desmond said as he dialed the lift.

“What? And where have you been? Mary came to an angel training session today. She begged my forgiveness and that I ‘take her back’ or whatever. She said you abandoned her.”

“I was figuring things out,” Desmond said.

Lucy looked him over. “You seem… different.”

“Different?” he asked and cocked his head at her. “How so?”

“I dunno. More manic I guess. Kinda hard to tell cause you’re always kinda manic.”

He laughed. “Maybe,” he said with a grin. The lift stopped and they got off.

“What are you going to show me?” she asked. They were in the hanger.

“A surprise,” he said.

“Something about numia?”

He chuckled, “No,” he got onto the platform that’d take them topside.

“Desmond-

“It’s fine,” he told her and reached out, grabbing her hand again. “Trust me.”

“I want to. You’re acting weird.”

“I’m weird,” he said. She hesitated but did step onto the platform. “Demeter, take us up,” her ordered.

“Under protest,” Demeter said.

“I know,” he said.

“Desmond,” Lucy said again. “Really, what is with you?”

“I just… a feel good I think,” he just kept smiling as the platform started to lift up. “For the first time in a _long_ time, I just feel good. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

She reached up and touched his face, put her hand on his forehead, the back of her hand on his cheek like she was checking his temperature. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“Nope,” he said as she took her hand away. “I just feel like everything’s okay now.”

“What gave you this insight?” she asked.

“I was meditating for two days. Sort of. I met Tiamat in a dream that wasn’t a dream. We only did one thing but it taught me about myself more, what I am, what I need to do. Everything is a lot clearer now.”

“We still going through with the plan?”

“Yeah,” he just could not stop smiling. “Atoll’s part of the plan and now it’s more important than ever.”

The platform glided to a halt. Above them were the stars and an imperfect darkness of a clear night sky. A fat half moon hung in the sky shining brightly. It was enough to see by with the stars. Around Lake Chad, there was savannah and desert in three directions and the horizon faded into an obscured line of darkness where it was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the land began. Out over the lake, the blanket of stars stretched out from their feet, just barely above the water on the platform, and up into the heavens.

Lucy smiled as she looked around. “Haven’t been up here since we liberated a plantation,” she said. “Memory and video is one thing but I forgot how beautiful the surface is.” She looked at him. “What did you want to show me?”

“Keep your eyes open,” he said even as he closed his own. He breathed in deeply and while he couldn’t see them he knew the glyphs all along his skin started to glow. The only ones visible were the ones on his face and hands and if he had his eyes open he’d see Lucy’s face lit by the teal light. She squeezed his hand. She was still holding it.

“What am I waiting for?” she asked.

Desmond just held up his hand a little. “It’s big, takes a minute. Just watch.”

Lucy was quiet and Desmond felt the pressure start to build. It built and built and the air around them grew dense and oppressive. It became sort of hard to breathe as it grew hot and humid and he squeezed her hand this time, to reassure her. They started to sweat in the uncomfortable air, clothes and hair sticking to skin. Then he lifted his free hand and like waving away a fly he waved away the oppressive air. In an instant, the pressure was gone and a cold wind rushed into the pocket of pressure Desmond had made when he did an impossible thing. He forced the entire pressure system up in an instant, leaving a pressure vacuum in its wake.

The hot air cooling created huge clouds above them in moments. They blotted out the stars and wiped across the face of the moon. They were plunged into a deeper darkness. Desmond opened his eyes when the first few raindrops hit his nose and hair. Lucy was looking up and around in wonder at the rolling clouds. Lightning flickered up in the heights of the clouds, then she looked at him. “You made it rain,” she said, awe in her voice.

“I made it rain,” Desmond said as the clouds parted and a gentle rain started to fall on them.

“This is amazing,” she held her hand out and caught raindrops on her palm. “To move that amount of space… to condense it and then move such a volume. This is impossible.”

“You saw it first hand,” Desmond said. Desmond lifted his hand a little again and started deflecting the rain away from them so they wouldn’t get wet.

She looked at him like she’d never seen him before. Her eyes were blacked out to see in the dark and Desmond didn’t think she looked scary. He thought she looked like how people like her, how angels, were supposed to look. “You still think you’re going to die?”

“Even if my body lives, who I was, who I am during this war, he’s not surviving this,” Desmond said. “He’s barely surviving now.”

“She didn’t survive either,” she said. “And that’s why I’m here instead. Took me a long time to figure that out and now I can actually live my life, and not worry about what She would have done.”

“You look like you want to say something else,” he said when she stopped and hesitated. “Just say it.”

“You know what I’m going to say?”

“Can’t see the future by myself,” he said candidly as the rain continued to fall on the surface of the lake like a thousand little drums. “Or read your mind. Just learned how to manipulate the weather. I’ll worry about unraveling the very difficult to impossible process of knowing what a woman is thinking later.” He smiled when she laughed.

“I just… wanted to say thank you.” She took one of his hands in both of hers. They felt small but strong, perfectly capable.

“For what?”

“For giving me myself,” she said with a little smile. “For making me realize you were important enough to me to know I didn’t want to lie to you. And that I was important enough to want to be me. Not Her, not this stupid Angel of the Lake shit I have to deal with.” He chuckled at her actual annoyance. “That I didn’t have to be an Assassin, or a Templar, or anyone else I didn’t want to be. I could just be me. So; thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“And I’m sorry,” she said.

“And now you lost me.” Why were girls so confusing? In one breath she’d gone from making perfect sense to Desmond feeling like he’d tried to take his GED test again and hadn’t done any studying.

“The other day,” she swallowed. “You said we shouldn’t.” He remembered. “Well, I think that sucks.”

“Lucy-

He was so surprised a bit of rain actually slipped through his deflection when she pulled him down by the hand and kissed him. Then he put it back and she stopped kissing him. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“We really shouldn’t,” he said.

“We’re going to die anyway,” she said and swallowed. “Like you said. One way or another, neither of us is making it out of here alive the same way we went in.” She took a deep breath. “You’re the only one who ever believed me, and believed in me. Everyone looks at me and sees a fake girl or a goddess to be worshiped. No one ever just… sees me. Just you. I know people do the same to you too, they don’t see you.”

Desmond wouldn’t disagree. If he did he’d be a he’d be a hypocrite. The proeathans saw a dark god, his ancestors saw a child who needed protecting, the humans of the ark either saw him as a demon or didn’t see him at all. Not a lot of people saw Desmond as he was and even less let Desmond just be who he was. They all had expectations. God. _Stadalla_. Savior. Soldier. Leader. _Ando_. Psychic. Hybrid. Son. Grandson. Hero. They didn’t see the traumatized kid trying his fucking best. Who just wanted to be left alone to have a normal life.

But his life had never been normal. From the second he’d been conceived his life had been starkly abnormal.

And everyone just layered expectation upon expectation on him until he had enough. Until he was tried of being piled on and kicked it all off. And then they saw his fury and saw a glimpse of what they expected to see from him. No one really saw him. They just saw what they wanted to see, or saw what they wanted to make him into. To the world, he was a thing to be molded until he no longer resembled himself and only a few people really saw him for what he was, who he was.

“And you think you do?” he challenged her instead.

Her face softened and she reached up and held his face in both hands. “I don’t have to,” she said. “Because you’re so eager to show me who you really are. Just figured this out and you didn’t show Altair, or Cain, or Jake, or your brother. You want me to see you so badly. I see you. I have. Which is why I didn’t want to love you.” He looked down and away, unable to look at her.

“Still think it’s a bad idea,” he said.

“But all your ideas are bad,” she said. “You still do them.”

He looked at her. He didn’t know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but he saw honesty in her black eyes. Maybe she didn’t love him, and maybe he didn’t love her. But damnit it was close. And it was good and without reservations. He cared about her a lot. He just wanted what was best for her same as she did for him. Wasn’t that like love? “Yeah, but I don’t usually _do_ them,” he said and she just rolled her eyes at him, even though a smile fought its way half way onto her mouth. “Guess it isn’t the worst stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life.” She smiled when he kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story consider leaving a comment. I really appreciate it.


	82. Goosebumps

Desmond found Mary in the cafeteria during breakfast. Since she’d started training with him the friends she’d made with the other angels had all left her and apparently it was a social suicide because _no one_ was sitting with her. Desmond slid into the seat next to her. “Hey,” he said, startling her so bad she nearly flung some of her food when he showed up. He wasn’t cruel enough to laugh.

“You,” she glared at him. “Leave me alone.”

“That’s not a very good attitude to have to a guy showing you how amazing you are,” he said.

“I’m done. You made a fool of me, left me with that weird guy-

“Not intentionally,” Desmond said. “Blame your Angel if you want. She kept me away.” Because he always had to play the angle. It was easier for people to believe. And they wanted to believe. Especially these young psyhics. They _wanted_ to believe that they were some chosen for a greater purpose and that someone was looking out for them. They’d had five years of shit. They needed something when all their other gods had failed them and continued to fail them.

“Probably for good reason,” Mary was still glaring.

“Or she was jealous,” Desmond smirked. “She doesn’t like sharing.”

“Why would she want to share with a devil like you anyway?” Mary narrowed her eyes at him. “Not that she’d take me back…” she looked down.

“Cause she knows you’re beyond what blind help she can give you.” Really though Desmond didn’t like painting Lucy as incompitant. She wasn’t. And it felt super weird to tell someone the lady you were kissing was terrible at her job. Felt bad. But the show had to go on. “She has nothing to offer you.”

“And you do?” Mary was back to glaring at him. Anger was a good, default, emotion too. Desmond knew that well.

“I already have. You’ll know where I’ll be,” and then he got up and left. He felt Mary staring after him but he didn’t turn and look once. And now, for the sake of making a cool exit he couldn’t hang around and get breakfast. His stomach rumbled a little. He was still hungry from last night. But he didn’t go and get breakfast. He’d go later when the cafeteria was mostly empty and Mary was long gone.

To distract his stomach he thought about other things. Like what the hell he was going to do at the atoll. He could make a real nasty storm now. Not a typhoon, but the longer he allowed the harsh pressure to build the bigger the storm, the darker the clouds, the more ominous the entire thing. That little rain storm last night had only been a few minutes of work. If he could spend _hours_ affecting the pressure and letting it build and boil over the storm it would create would be violent and abrupt enough so the proeathans at the atoll would know, without any doubt, that the storm wasn’t just some rain. Something was coming for them.

Desmond’s head hurt just thinking about how much concentration that was going to take.

He was caught up in his thoughts and didn’t notice someone come up to him till they almost collided. “Desmond,” Tommy said like he’d said it a few times to get his attention.

“Oh, hey bro,” Desmond said.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hmm? No, sorry. I was kinda in my head,” Desmond said.

“Oh. Well, where have you been?”

“Long story, wouldn’t make much sense if I told you. Just know it was important. I wasn’t ignoring you and Mary.”

Tommy still frowned. “Really?”

“Really,” Desmond assured him.

“You going up there today?” Desmond nodded. “Great, so will I then,” he said. “Also… uncle John wanted to come.”

Desmond frowned. “He’s a pyromancer. Up there is for telekinetics.”

“Yeah I know but…” a group of people heading towards the cafeteria walked past. Tommy knew not to talk about psychic stuff around people not in the know. Had been hard enough getting the first batch of angels to accept the fact that, yes, they _actually_ were psychics when the only sort they’d ever known were either weird old ladies on TV or proeathans. Was best to not even bring the word up around those not in the know. “Can we talk in private?”

“Sure,” Desmond nodded. Tommy led him down the hall to the rest of the sleeping area for the humans to where he was staying. It was practically a monk cell, like most of the other living spaces in the ark, and had the neccessities but nothing really else. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh boy,” Desmond said, sarcastic because he couldn’t not be. The joke about his intelligence was as old as he was and even he liked poking fun at himself for being kinda dumb.

“I was _thinking_ ,” Tommy gave him an annoyed look, “if we’re able to use telekenisis, why couldn’t uncle John, or our dad?”

“Well…” Desmond sighed, rubbed his mouth. How to explain the very stratigic and lengthy ‘breeding’ that went on in the Assassins without bringing up the fact that they were a freaky genetically obsessive cult? It was a pedigree thing that still weirded him out big time when he thought about it. Once you understood the Assassins as a group the pedigree became easier to understand even if never more sane or easy to stomach but Tommy didn’t know anything about the Assassins, and never would. He would forever be blissfully ignorant.

Obvious Andrew wouldn’t be a telekinetic, or a pyromancer, because he wasn’t a Miles. He wasn’t even really an Assassin. But that did beg the question. What about John? Obviously he was a pyromancer. And apparently the Miles family would have _all_ been pyromancers if allowed according to angels and his AI. But they could also use proeathan abilities and were a carefully bred family to be the best they could become just as much as other old families. Even though they hadn’t set out to breed for angel abilities they’d still done so since the two sets of abilities were fairly closely linked. But John said he didn’t have Eagle Vision. Only Kaley and Troy had had Eagle Vision in their family. Maybe that was why he could use his angel powers. Did that mean it was one way ot the other?

Either way the Miles _weren’t_ telekinetics. Desmond and Tommy were just weirdo anomolies. But how did he explain all that to Tommy and not just flat out say no like an asshole or explain all that Assassin bullshit?

It was a lose lose situation.

“Well?” Tommy pressed when Desmond had no good answer.

“Look,” Desmond said. “It isn’t cut and dry like that-

“You said if given the opportunity anyone could learn to use any power,” Tommy said.

“Tommy,” Desmond said, “do you think we’re normal?”

“I have no idea. I have no measure of ‘normal’,” and he did the finger quotes just to be an asshole.

“Heh. Okay, fair enough. So lemmie tell you. The two of us? We aren’t normal. In fact we are steadfastly abnormal as far as any psychics are concerned. Could John learn telekinesis? Maybe. Should he? Probably not.”

“Why not? He could help.”

“Because that isn’t where his strength is,” Desmond said. “You know how all the angels have a vessel and how I wanted you to have one too?” Tommy nodded. “Inside those vessels are AI that connect with our new angels and bring out the best in what they can do.”

“Yeah but Hana could learn two different things.”

“Hana had the disposition to do so,” Desmond said. “No two people are made the same and just because someone like Hana can maybe learn to use two abilities doesn’t mean that _anyone_ can learn them, or learn those two in conjection, or learn the second one as easily as others.”

Tommy was still frowning. “Couldn’t you give him a chance?”

Desmond hated himself a little. “No,” he said. “I don’t have time.” But only a little. Really John was for Tommy and Desmond didn’t want anything to do with John. He knew in the back of his mind it was shitty and petty but he’d written off his biological family ages ago as psyhcopathic cultists. He wasn’t exactly _wrong_ but it was a bit unfair. He didn’t want anything to do with the Miles family or his dad and would have been happy if neither of them had shown up in his life again. But they had and he had to deal with it. Except he wasn’t. Because he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get close to John and he still kept his dad at arm’s reach. It didn’t have to be like that for Tommy. He didn’t have the baggage Desmond did. And he really didn’t have time to train someone from scratch how to use telekinesis, if they even could.

“Not even for family?”

“Tom,” Desmond said patiently. “I am up to my eyeballs right now. I can hardly sleep, I barely see my friends. I am focused so fully on helping you and Mary and making sure she can keep up with me going slow that I just do not have time.”

By the end Tommy was looking down. “I just thought… we could do stuff together, that’s all.” He looked up and Desmond felt genuinly bad. How was his face _so good_ at making people feel guilty? It was unfair! No wonder the immortals rolled over belly up when he guilted them into things. And now he was on the recieving end. What the actual fuck?

“When this is over I’m sure I’ll have some time,” Desmond said. He didn’t know if he would but fuck he could at least tell his brother that. He didn’t think too hard about the fact that he was lying to Tommy, meaning he was lying to his clone and thus effectivly himself. Wouldn’t be the first time he lied to himself but it felt worse when he was actually accountable for it.

“Okay,” Tommy nodded. “And I uh— I wanted to talk to you about something else too.”

“Shoot,” Desmond said.

“Well… it’s kinda awkward,” Tommy grimaced and walked away from him. “Like I _feel_ like I should know what to do, but I don’t.”

“About?” Desmond asked slowly. He really really hoped this wasn’t about getting awkward boners. He was too young to be having The Talk with anyone about awkward boners.

“But I think it’s just me being awkward because I have amnesia.”

“Tom,” Desmond said and he stopped his pacing. “What are you talking about?”

“Jacob’s a really nice guy, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do know. That’s why he’s basically my best friend,” Desmond said. Or at least the one person he could _really_ trust with whatever he wanted to say who wouldn’t freak out and who would give him some solid empathy in return. Hawk would listen without a freak out but his empathy sucked. Anyone else he might have told about his old sucidal tendencies would have flipped out. Jake was also great for a laugh and just made Desmond forget all the pressure on him. Always had been.

Tommy started pacing again. “I just kinda feel like… I dunno. He’s _too_ nice. Is that stupid?”

“Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“Yes— But I just don’t know what to do. Like I’m new to all this stuff. Only my family has ever been nice to me. Everyone else treats me like I don’t exist, or with scorn. And everyone loves Jacob. Like he’s friends with, I kid you not, _everyone_. Or that’s what it seems like. And he’s nice to everyone. But he’s just, like, _extra_ nice to me.”

“Jake’s a nice dude. What about this makes you uncomfortable?”

“I dunno? That it’s fake? Like you said, he’s your best friend and he always talks about how cool, or strong, or talented or annoying you are.” Desmond snorted at that. “I’m just worried he’s so nice cause you’re his friend and you never hang out with him so he’s using me as a proxy.”

“Well, that seems pretty insidious. Way more than I think Jacob is capable of. He’s a grumpy asshole when he wants to be but he wouldn’t fake being nice to someone because he’s bitter or petty about being ignored by someone.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I almost broke his arm once. It was an accident, but I still did it. He forgave me because he knew I wasn’t in my right mind. And I apologized a lot cause it was a shitty thing to do.”

“Why did you almost break his arm?”

“I blamed him for something he had no control over. Something… really traumatic happened and I lost my mind and he was an easy target for my anger and grief.”

“Oh. I’d ask but-

“Yeah. Wouldn’t tell you anyway,” Desmond said.

“It still is weird though. It makes me feel weird.”

“Honestly I think it’s weird you’re uncomfortable Jacob is extra nice to you. Does it feel disingenuin?”

“I don’t think so? He always seems genuine. Maybe that’s it? I’m not used to being the center of attention from soneone I’m not related to. Like when I’m not with my family I’m literally with him.”

“He’s probably trying to make you feel included since no one else really is,” Desmond said. “I can ask him to tone it down some if you want? Sometimes he is a bit much.”

“Maybe?” Tommy said.

“I will. He doing anything else you don’t like? Is _anyone_ doing stuff to you you don’t like?” Tommy said nothing. “I’m serious. I know you’re pretty shy at the moment but I can talk to people if you want.”

“Most people don’t pay enough attention to me for it to be a problem other than those angels. But I don’t see them anymore.”

“And other than the too nice thing from Jacob?”

“So, quick question. Before I lost my memories, was I touchy feely kinda guy?”

“No,” Desmond said slowly. “Neither of us really are.”

“Okay.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was just being weird about it, like there was a history for it— But Jacob touches me a lot, it bothers me.”

“Uh… what?” Desmond was just confused. “Like his usual clingy shit or more so?”

“Well when you showed up the other day he was all over you in a friend way,” Tommy said. Desmond nodded. Jake and Jacob had always been like that. He was a really tactile, empathic guy who liked touching people. It was really not so great in a group of touch sensative people who were born and raised Assassins who were also super old, and Desmond was the only one who was really ever even a little okay with it. “He does that to me too, so I guess that’s normal?”

“For him, yeah, it is,” Desmond shrugged.

“He does more than normal then. And with the whole super nice to me it makes me uncomfortable. Is that weird? Should I be okay with this or am I just not socialized enough-?

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Desmond said. “Like other than his normal stuff where does he touch you?”

“Kinda everywhere,” Tommy motioned to his entire body above the waist. “Not a lot, just little touches. Like touching my hand, or arm or squeezing my shoulder.”

Desmond blinked at him as he realized what was going on. “Wow,” he said.

“What? What?” Tommy asked worriedly.

“I’ll talk to him,” Desmond said. “I can’t believe him either.”

“What? What’s he doing?”

“I’m going to let him tell you,” Desmond said. “I’ll talk to him tonight. In the meantime I still wanna go get breakfast and then we’re meeting Mary topside.”

“Mary said she wanted nothing to do with you anymore,” Tommy said.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be there,” Desmond said. “Now want to go get some breakfast?” Tommy nodded and followed Desmond out of his bedroom.


	83. Breathe Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /lays down  
> I love Jacob  
> soooooooooooooo  
> much  
> I actually teared up a little writing this
> 
> This chapter was fucking exhausting to write, holy fuck bro

One day. One day Desmond was going an entire day without getting a headache.

Today wasn’t that day.

After a rather fruitful, if frustrating, top side lesson with Mary Desmond wanted nothing more than to eat something, wash the dirt off him from being on the surface, and lay down. Maybe get some actual sleep. That’d be nice. He hadn’t had a real night sleep in four days now. Just meditation to relax. But sleep? Yeah right.

Instead, he just did the first two things he wanted to do. He grabbed dinner after cleaning up and went to find Jacob. Wasn’t hard. Demeter knew the locations of everyone important in her ark. She led him right to Jacob. Which, surprisingly, was in one of the rec rooms Demeter had set aside for people to come, relax, and socialize. What was even more surprising was there was some sort of jerry-rigged proeathan made bastard version of an air hockey table in the room. A few people were around it, including Jacob, who was hustling it like a pool table except there were no stakes.

Only Jacob would hustle air hockey.

He went up to the table as the two people playing, Jacob and some other guy, squared up. Unlike air hockey, the puck wasn’t kept up by air jets. It was just levitating and it was a cube in shape. The longer Desmond looked at it the more he realized it wasn’t just a cube. It was a god damn millennium cube. As in the thing that powered numia for flight. They were basically tiny cold fusion reactors that through some other sort of magic Desmond didn’t even try to understand could also be used to power just about anything. Hawk said they were insanely dangerous to handle. And yet they were using it to play _air hockey_. Not with the normal paddles. Instead, they used a blue disc that radiated light like neon. They passed the cube with ping pong-like maneuvers more than actual air hockey motions but it moved like air hockey.

Desmond just watched and wondered who’s _stupid_ idea this was? Something told him Jacob but he couldn’t be sure. He just waited for the game to be over. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Jacob looked up. “Hey!” he brightened instantly when he saw Desmond. “Didn’t see you, buddy.”

Desmond picked the cube up from the table. “What are you doing with this?”

“It’s fine, really,” Jacob said. Desmond gave him a stern look. “Mercury told us to use it.”

“And you trust that brat?”

“Demeter said it was fine,” Jacob said.

Desmond looked at him, looked at the cube, then at the people all looking at him. He realized he looked like the crazy guy here. “Okay, fine.” He put the cube back down. “We need to talk.”

“Sure,” Jacob said. He bid farewell to the others around and walked out with Desmond. “What’s up?”

“Just come with me so we can talk in private.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

There was a garden park in the living space and Desmond went in there. It was basically empty except for a small family with their four year old looking at the flowers. Desmond’s chest tightened a second before he looked away. He couldn’t think about it. He took Jacob to the other side of the garden park and sat on a bench Demeter had created when she’d decided to make a garden park. Jacob sat next to him.

They sat like that for a little bit, Desmond looking pensive. “Bro, you’re killing me here,” Jacob complained when he didn’t say anything.

Desmond looked at him. He should just get this over with. Wasn’t very tactful and didn’t sympathize with anyone’s feelings, but he thought it’d be best if he didn’t. “Do you like me?”

“Huh? Obviously, you’re my friend. You get sun stroke up there on the surface?”

Any other time Desmond would have laughed a little at the joke. “I don’t mean like that.”

Jacob stared at him then his face turned somber and he looked away. “Ah shit,” he muttered.

“You’re making Tommy uncomfortable,” he said. Jacob sighed. “I thought we were over this?”

“Des,” Jacob said and then looked at him again. “You were.”

“Jacob, it’s been five years-

“Okay, stop. No, cause you’re wrong,” Jacob said and waved his hand at Desmond. “Lemmie explain it so you see how _wrong_ you are.”

“I mean I’m usually wrong but my ability to measure time isn’t that bad.”

“Just lemmie talk,” Jacob said.

“Okay. Go ahead,” Desmond said and motioned at him as if to say he had the floor.

“Do you remember how we met?”

“Yeah, I basically stumbled into your work-

“ _All_ fucked up. Bloody, face black and blue, and then bruised and beaten beyond whatever dumb thing you did to _crack_ your motorcycle helmet by Altair, Ezio, and Hawk. You were eight shades of battered and for some dumb reason, I felt bad enough for you to help you. It’s a real personality flaw. I was honestly terrified you were going to be a serial killer or something and I was going to end up as a news headline about how my body was found in my apartment and I was being eaten by my cat or something.” He smiled sad and bitterly. “Instead you were… awesome. Cute, funny, helpful, smart in your own way, handy around my apartment, and you didn’t mind me flirting with you. For a day or so I thought you were sent by God or something. Do you _really_ blame me for crushing on you?”

“I mean when you say it like that, no,” Desmond said.

“You know what happened next. I didn’t make any headlines but I did find ads and uh- missing person flyers after Pluto took you. Had to deal with those three crazy immortals who acted like the world was going to fall down around their ears. And they _hated_ me. Like I dunno if you really noticed it cause they love you so much but they despised my very existence. I was a burden for them. You were the only one who didn’t hate me.”

Jacob ran his hand through his hair and ruffled the back of his head, messing his hair up so it was even more unkempt than usual. “Maybe it was some Stockholm syndrome along with it but I know that before I had to come with you I liked you. I probably would have fallen in love with you if given the chance. And don’t let this get to your head cause I don’t think your ego can take it,” he poked Desmond and Desmond just smiled a little. “But you are like perfect boyfriend material. And I really hoped that even though we had to keep running away that maybe you’d reciprocate my feelings. I think I watched too much TV, my mom always said it’d rot my brain, and gave me stupid, unrealistic expectations on how things worked.

“But you were still nice to me. Even though no one else really was, and even though you told me no. And I figured, well, I’ll get over this. Always do cause every cute bi guy in my life has been the biggest let downs ever,” he groaned.

“I mean… sorry?” Desmond said.

“Don’t be, really,” Jacob said. “It’s a shitty thought to have to want to force someone to be a certain way when they aren’t. And I mean how can I compete with girls? They’re so cute,” Jacob wasn’t even being sarcastic.

“Honestly I’ve never met a guy who liked girls as much as you, which is so weird considering how gay you are,” Desmond was just sarcastic enough to make Jacob laugh.

“Another terrible character flaw, obviously,” Jacob said. “I have a hard time getting over crushes, always have. But I knew I’d just need time. Then, Altair ‘died’ and came back. I don’t think any of you knew how bad I was then. Like how much I wasn’t myself. It was pretty scary, actually,” he said softly. “Some days I woke up and didn’t know what year it was, or who I was. I don’t know if Hawk noticed. Or if he noticed he didn’t care. I was the ‘Stray’, and ultimately forgettable for him. Altair and Ezio didn’t keep tabs on him and you didn’t know any better.”

“I should have,” Desmond protested. “I’ve been through that, Bleeding so deep you forget who you are sometimes. I should have noticed.”

“It’s fine. Really. I don’t blame you. You didn’t tell Hawk to do it and you weren’t in charge of watching out for Hawk’s carelessness. But Altair came back and all the voices in my head were too overwhelming. I don’t really remember what happened while I was Under the first time. I remember a lot of screaming, a lot of begging. Then Altair showed up and everything was quiet, except for one voice. It was so nice and until then none of the actual voices in my head had been very nice. They all wanted to live again in my body. This one didn’t want to take over, it wanted to share. So, I said yes.”

“Malik?” Desmond asked.

“Yeah,” Jacob leaned over and rubbed his forehead with a sad smile. “The best and worst thing that ever happened to me after deciding to take you home like a stray cat.” He sighed. “And just… like that, I stopped crushing on you,” as he said ‘that’ he snapped his fingers. “Because I wasn’t just me anymore. I was us and we didn’t both like you. Malik’s memories about Altair are _so_ strong to the point it’s like I actually have another person inhabiting my body. We talk, he guides me sometimes, and we’re totally separate. But we can’t do things separately. We share a body so we have to agree on things. He was into Altair and I was kinda on board for that just so I could get over you. Kinda. Malik had to talk a lot to convince me that Altair wasn’t as bad as I thought and he was really just scared of me.”

He looked over at Desmond. “Can you believe that? Altair was scared of _me_.” Desmond didn’t answer the question, Jacob didn’t want an answer. “So I figured why not? I was easier to convince than Altair. We agreed Altair was more available and would be better in the long run. We were both immortal and Malik would _not_ shut up about him for days. We could barely even sleep. You were super not available besides the fact that Altair would have been petty and jealous if we’d hooked up. So I shut out that part. It was easy while you were gone when the Adjatevs had you. It let me and Altair get really close, y’know?

“Then we found you again and it was like when you came back into my job all beat up all over again. I really didn’t want that but I couldn’t help it. You were so helpless while we were in Russia. We worried about you all the time because you were our friend and because once you were around we could actually make headway with Altair, kinda.” Jacob looked down again and took a deep breath. “We were really in sync by then but I felt myself doing the same stupid thing I’d done the first time I met you. Wasn’t good for us. I know none of you noticed, thank God, but we argued a lot about what we should be doing. Who’s heart was more important.

“Turned out it didn’t matter. We were still bickering when we ran into Gafsa-

“Jacob-

“I’m still telling you why you’re wrong,” he said and Desmond shut up again. “After that, it was actually better. We didn’t argue cause it was obvious it didn’t matter. So we just did what we could by being supportive and available and a friend you needed and not a bunch of control freaks who was every other person in your life. I let us be us and let Malik’s feelings be more important. Everything was fine. I actually like Altair, a lot. Even more since whatever Cain did or said to him after you got back from Apollo. He’s still kinda old feeling but we’re trying to modernize him. I’ll probably be in love with him one day.”

“You’re not now?”

“I’m not,” Jacob said. “But we are.”

“I’m not going to try and pretend I know how the whole I/we thing works for you,” Desmond said. “So long as you’re not unhappy about it.”

“I’m not. I really do like Altair a lot. He can be a real stubborn idiot but he’s our stubborn idiot. Everything was going pretty good and I honestly didn’t even know you’d brought your clone back till you introduced him to me… as your twin brother. Same stupid ass thing happened when I met him. I saw him and saw you in that battered motorcycle helmet.

“The thing is,” Jacob said, paused a moment, and then continued, “I never actually got over you. I never had a chance. It was just I had to push what I wanted aside for what was better and more healthy for us. I’d rather a slim chance then a snowball’s chance in hell. I knew me crushing on you wasn’t super healthy because it always made me feel bad, and made us fight. Malik’s really good at making people feel guilty for shit and getting his way on things and I’m kinda a pushover. So I usually went his way and didn’t hate it, I liked it most of the time. But this?

“One of my moms was really religious. Went to church all the time, taught me and Eugene the bible even though neither of us are Mormon. She used to tell me that God will find ways to make sure that you are as happy as he wishes you were. I am happy with Altair, we both are. But that was a decision made so we would be better. It did what Malik wanted. And then here was God basically putting his hand down on my shoulder and saying ‘you should be happy too.’” Jacob stopped, looked away and pressed at the side of one eye to stop himself from crying. Desmond didn’t say anything, didn’t touch him or comfort him. Jacob sniffed and pulled himself together. “I’d never gotten over you. Never had the chance. Maybe I didn’t even want to. All I got left is how stubborn I am. Everyone I _used_ to be is gone now, everyone I’ve ever known or cared about.” He looked at Desmond and he felt _so_ bad when Jacob said, “Except you.

“So I told Malik we were taking a break from Altair because he’d been running the show on our feelings for a while but I wanted a turn now. We’re going to have forever to fall in and out of love with Altair for all the ways he’s going to charm and infuriate us, but I’m only going to have a few more decades to remember what it’s like to be mortal. Then, once that’s gone I’ll barely be better than the others.

“To say he was mad was an understatement. I have more control of the body and he’s got better mental control. He was so mad and mad I wouldn’t stop and talk to him about the decision that before we could tell Altair he made us unconscious. _Freaked_ Altair out because we wouldn’t wake up and he was too scared he’d done something wrong when we’d gone Under the first time and that there was a time limit or a death limit for us that he didn’t leave till we woke up. We had a huge fight. Like a _huge_ fight. Imagine any fight you’ve had with your dad and magnify it by about a hundred. And cause it’s all in our head it’s kinda like a White Room or the Animus. So it was a real shit storm.”

“Yikes,” Desmond said.

“In the end, I won, because he’s stubborn but it’s _my_ body. I’m just letting his share it. We had Hawk use his Apple to do a patch job on my head and put Malik away, or more like made Malik sleep. Well, Hawk and Clay. Hawk’s still on the shit list but he did this right so it’s a bit lower now. Malik doesn’t want anything to do with Tommy. He doesn’t like Tommy that much. Not cause he’s your clone, or was evil or anything. He just doesn’t want anyone else and sees me not being in agreement with him as a huge betrayal. But now I can just be me for a bit and figure out if I can do this. And that’s why you’re fucking wrong about me ever getting over you, you inconsiderate asshole.”

Desmond didn’t say anything for a second. “You need to tell him,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“You’re making him uncomfortable. He doesn’t understand flirtations or subtle advances.”

“You’re okay with this?”

“You’re my best friend and you have been through the worst things anyone should ever have to go through. Because of me. Really you’re in this mess because I came into your life.”

“I don’t resent that,” Jacob said.

“Maybe not. But I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry-

“But I am,” Desmond said. “Everyone you know is dead. Your parents, your friends. And that’s all my fault. And I was even the prick and took your heart too. So I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want and deserve. Because you do deserve better than this shit you’ve had to go through because of me.” Jacob rubbed one of his eyes stubbornly. Desmond wasn’t lying to him or saying this to make him feel better. It was his fault. He was the one who’d stayed with Jacob and not just left to find the others after he’d recovered some. He’d made the choice and it had put Jacob in danger immediately. He’d been stupid and lonely and grieving and Jacob was a glimpse of a simpler, easier, sort of life he could have had. A life he’d always desperately wanted. To just have a simple, normal, life with a nice boyfriend or girlfriend. His stupid selfish self had instead gotten Jacob kidnapped and then dead. And not just dead, but death unending because he could never really die.

“I won’t be able to make it up to you in my lifetime compared to yours on how _sorry_ I am and I wish I could go back so I never walked into your work.”

“I don’t,” Jacob said softly.

“But I want you to be happy like you deserve to be. I want my brother to be happy like he deserves to be too. Cause in the grand scheme of Assassin morality, you’re both innocent and this should never have happened. Heh… none of this should have happened.”

They sat like that for a few long seconds. Then Desmond said something he knew was going to hurt Jacob a lot but also knew he needed to hear. Needed to hear to have _some_ sort of closure for himself on this. “And you should know, for a while, I did like you. You kinda… freaked me out because my brain was still kinda leaky back then and sometimes when I wasn’t paying attention you’d look like Malik and I’d forget who I was. But I did like you. Even in Australia and after my dumb temper tantrum after Dubai. Who knows, maybe if we’d met in a different life or time it would have been different. You wouldn’t have made me unhappy.” Jacob sniffed again and blinked rapidly to keep from crying again. “You were normal, and I needed that. Cause nothing in my life was or is normal. So if this is good for you, and can be good for my brother, I’m fine with it. And if it’s you I know you can make him feel normal too, I just want you both to be happy. _Someone_ might as well be happy in this group of anti-social loners.” Desmond grinned when Jacob coughed out a laugh that strained like a sob at the beginning. But he didn’t cry.

“Fair enough,” Jacob said and rubbed his nose.

“But really. He doesn’t understand what you’re doing. I saw what you were doing and I’m hardly even around but he doesn’t. He has no social cues, he has no relationship experience. He has nothing and you’re doing things that are obviously flirtations to anyone who knows what those are.”

“But he doesn’t,” Jacob sighed. “Right, got it.”

“I can tell him if you want, though I did say you’d tell him yourself.”

Jacob sighed again. “I should tell him.”

“And like… spell it out for him. He’s still me, he’s still fucking stupid.”

“Oh, I’m _well_ aware of how stupid you two both are,” Jacob said sarcastically.

“That was all I wanted to talk about,” Desmond said. “Didn’t go exactly like I expected.”

“Yeah, I just puked my feelings all over the place kinda huh?”

“Kinda,” Desmond said. “But that’s okay. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“Thanks,” Jacob said, smiling weakly. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to try and get some sleep,” Desmond said and got up with a groan. “Been a real long couple of days for me.”

“I hope you get some,” Jacob said and got up as well. He got all stiff for a second when Desmond reached over and hugged him before hugging him back tightly, Jacob’s face pressed into Desmond’s shoulder. When Desmond pulled away from Jacob he kept him in arm’s reach. “Well that was pretty gay,” Jacob said sarcastically but Desmond knew he appreciated it because he had to clear his throat so he voice didn’t crack.

“Yeah, it was,” Desmond smirked a little. “Now I’m not a religious guy even a little but your mom was right about one thing.” He squeezed one of Jacob’s shoulders. “You do deserve to be as happy as she, or God, or you wish you were.” Then he kissed Jacob on the cheek gently. “Now I’m going to go to bed.” He gave Jacob’s shoulder a pat and then walked past him. Jacob turned and watched him go but didn’t follow.

Desmond didn’t know where he was going but his feet found their way to Lucy’s room. He knocked and she answered. She was already in her night clothes. “Hey,” he said. Outside of her ‘Angel whites’ she looked soft and clean.

“Hi. Where’d you run off to last night, hmm?” she rose her brows at him. He hadn’t stayed with her after the storm.

“I’m bad at having feelings I’m sorry, I’m just a poor stupid man,” he sighed and that made her giggle.

“Well, what are you doing here?”

“Can I sleep here? Can I… sleep with you? I’m kinda tired of resting through meditation.”

“You wanna sleep with me?”

“I want to sleep in bed with you,” Desmond clarified.

“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Lucy, I just had to deal with a lot of gay Jacob emotions. I’m exhausted. Please.”

She just smiled in an infuriatingly coy manner and opened the door wider so he could come in. “I was just about to go to bed myself. What were you and Jacob talking about?”

“Gay man feelings things,” Desmond said in a flat tone.

She gave a dry little half laugh of a cough. “Alright, don’t tell me.”

“It’s kinda private and something he should be allowed to tell who he wants. But I figure you’re married so he’ll probably tell you at some point when he finally files those divorce papers,” Desmond teased her even as she stepped right up in front of him so he bumped into her.

“You really just want to sleep in my bed, and that’s it?”

Looking down at her Desmond couldn’t have felt more uninterested if he tried. He’d just had Jacob spill his soul to him about all his feelings for Desmond and it’d feel wrong if he just had that conversation with Jacob and then went and had sex with a woman. Not to mention he felt like an asshole because he felt the same way about Jacob as he did Lucy. He just wanted them to be happy and cared about them a lot. It wasn’t love. Just it was something and it was just a coin flip that he’d ended up with Lucy instead of Jacob. Didn’t make him feel like any less of an asshole. “If it’s not too much trouble,” Desmond said. “Not that your ass doesn’t look _excellent_ in shorts,” he said and made an ‘okay’ hand sign.

She sucked her teeth and bottom lip in an annoyed way even as she stepped away from him. “Alright,” she said.

Desmond took off about half his clothes. He contemplated how naked he wanted to get because of the glyphs. He was sitting on the bed, taking off his boots when Lucy came over to him again and put her hands on his shoulders. “Hmm?” he asked, looking up at her.

“I can’t believe you actually glow,” she said, her fingers tracing one of the glyphs on his shoulder that ran up his neck. He didn’t glow constantly but now and then a line of teal light would glimmer along the lines of the glyphs.

“Would you prefer I keep my shirt on so I don’t keep you up?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she rubbed his shoulders with both hands before leaving him to go to the other side of the bed.

Desmond finished pulling off his boots as Lucy turned off the lights. Maybe he should have felt awkward but he didn’t. He was used to sleeping in Lucy’s room for an actual night’s sleep and they’d had sex a few times so he wasn’t self-conscious either. He laid down, facing her and in the darkness of some of the glyphs on his chest and shoulders glittering dimly he could see the outline of her face and her blacked out eyes so she could see in the darkness. She touched his face, his lips and then leaned over to kiss him gently. “Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” Desmond echoed her and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story consider leaving a comment. I really appreciate it.


	84. The Freer: Rain Goddess

When I scream everyone hears it. Even those halls away know because each one is punctuated by a lightning strike, a great bell of thunder. One would think I’ve done this four times. The pain of childbirth should be nothing now. Nothing I’m not used to, prepared for, anticipating. It still bites. My body still aches and I want everyone to know that their goddess suffers just like every other woman.

The pains of birth ease before the storm end. Another son for me. For us. I sleep while I can and when I wake I only look at him as I put on my armor. Not for the first time both my doctor and midwife tell me this is unwise. I’m in a fragile state. They know it’s futile. They know I won’t listen. I can’t just sit down while my people are out being slaughtered today. My hips still ache, my legs tremble, there’s a dull pain in my groin from my body putting itself back together.

‘At least name him, before you go off,’ the midwife pleads with me.

I look down at my new son. I love him but I can’t feel it. I’m not his mother yet. I’m the leader of a great and terrible force of nature. I’m a storm given form full of lightning and whipping wind. When I come back with a victory I will be his mother. When I look down at him I do not see myself in his features. His features are that of some man I don’t even know or remember. I never remember them. I don’t have time for soft feelings like being in love with a man or a woman. That isn’t what I want from a relationship. I just care about what men can make me feel physically and if they can’t they’re useless to me. Isn’t hard to find. Any man is eager to please their goddess, even if she cares not for them. They’re just honored for the opportunity. My son has the skin and features of whoever his father was, a man I don’t know, who’s insignificant to his existence other than his seed happened to grow in my womb and not some other.

I stop long enough and crouch down by his bassinet. My armor glitters like a wind chime on a brisk day. I touch his soft head, his eyes are closed, he’d sleeping. I haven’t even taken him to my breast yet. “Uril,” I say, run my thumb across his head and stand. “Keep him well while I’m away,” I tell my midwife who is still beside herself. She is a new one.

The one who helped me deliver my second and third sons wouldn’t have even blinked I’d left my son unnamed before a battle. She’s dead now. The enslaved killed her. They were trying to get to my third son but their information was out of date. She died for nothing and like most enslaved their guilt ripped them away from the Song and they put themselves at my feet for mercy, or lack of. I don’t hate those enrapt by the Song. They can’t help it. They’re powerless. I lock them away until the Song has left them and fill them with the E’dn so they know what freedom feels like, tastes like. They are the most loyal.

I leave the midwife and Uril behind, helmet under my arm. I can hear the arguing of my generals before I even arrive at the war chamber. They fall into abrupt silence when I enter the room. They mutter hellos and well wishes on my new child. ‘Why are you here bickering? No. Don’t answer. I don’t care. Are our people ready?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ one of them says, I don’t catch who.

‘Then what are you doing here? Why aren’t you getting them ready to march? Why do _I_ come from child labor prepared for war and you are seated in this chamber discussing? When this is over I will reevaluate who I allow to command my troops; you have disappointed me.’

I feel fear from all of them. They should be afraid. The proeathans fear me, they aren’t the only ones. I am not a benevolent goddess. I am one shaped into a figure of war and violence. Crafted from millennia of violence against my people. I can be gentle when I wish but for incompetence, I have no soft feelings. If you cannot do something for me you are useless. I’ve gone through twenty generals this way. Failures or they are useful and prove their worth to be in battle, and fall because of it. Only those who back up their pride with action are mourned. The others are a waste.

They assure me my troops are ready, they were discussing who would lead in my stead since I was in labor. Wouldn’t be necessary now. There are some stumbling, stammering, assurances. I don’t care. I leave to their prattling and walk out of the building. It was once a small proeathan city, part of the Adjatev nation-state but we drove them out years ago and with our illusionists cast such a vision across the entire thing that all the proeathans can see is rubble. They could be standing in the middle of the town and not see the buildings. This place is invisible to their eyes and technology, and they can only see it through the use of vessels.

There’s no one in the city now. It’s empty except for a skeleton support staff. Meaning my generals were right. There’s a single hovercraft waiting for the generals and me. As I’m getting on they come rushing out of the building. Some of them only half dressed for war. I wait but only because I pity them. Then the pilot lifts the hovercraft off the ground and is speeding a few feet above the ground towards where our next battle is. It’s another city some hundred miles away. The capital of a small nation-state known as Nera.

On our approach, I close my eyes and extend out past myself. I can feel my army. A quiet, trembling mass of fury and might ready to rise up and crash against the proeathan line. At a greater distance, I can feel the proeathans of the Nera. They are afraid. No one has come to help them. Their larger neighbors had retreated to their borders. They are afraid too and will protect themselves first before throwing soldiers to help those so small as the Nera. We’ve already leveled the rest of few cities and towns of the Nera and with this battle, we will wipe the Nera out.

Fitting. The Nera were one of the first to kill all their human slaves when my rebellion began. They stole their souls into vessels to be more useful. They wiped out an entire population of humans without any fuss. Thousands of slaves. Gone within days. Even half-breeds were killed but they were simply euthanized, they weren’t useful enough as either part of us.

We’ve since left the natural thunderstorm that had marked my son Uril’s birth and as we close in on my troops I pull down the air. Clouds pour into the bowl I’ve left and grow thick and black. Ions simmer in the air and when the hovercraft lands the air is charged, the clouds green and blue and heavy with rain. Lightning flickers as little sparks in the distance. A flash of light.

Everyone knows when I land. My helmet covers my entire face. It is a blank mask. Nothing enters it and nothing leaves. No light, no sound. I project an illusion of swirling, iridescent, oil across the black face and my senses open in ways no human or proeathan can. I see through and beyond and around me, the world is alive with sound and color and existence. I smile under my helmet as I move up to the front. People look away, or they bow. A few, more devout drop prostate on the ground in open worship. I acknowledge none of them.

The first rain drops begin to fall as I walk past the front line where the edge of my people wait for the signal. The rain is the signal. They lift themselves to their feet and I can see and feel them around me, churning with power, anger, and rage. They walk behind me in an unbroken line of broken families and motherless children and survivors of nightmare lives. The rain begins to come down hard and I feel each droplet on my helmet, on my shoulders. The black glove I wear becomes a weapon, shifting into my grip like an old friend. It had killed many proeathans, tasted so much blood.

I walk slowly but half way to the city my troops are in the jog. I know the Nera see us and are prepared. It’s part of the horror, to watch us advance. The telekinetics lead the charge. We can see where they’re bunkered down when they open fire on us. The bullets do nothing, snatched out of the air and land harmlessly on the ground like rain by my angels. As we get even closer the line slows enough for the miners to race forward. They cleave the earth in two with their minds. Explosions dot the air as mines are disrupted and go off. Useless. More bullets come but very few make it through our line of telekinetics at the front.

A few hundred feet from the wall the war cries start. Our empaths project it out across the entire line. Courage. Ferocity. Strength. We will win today. We will taste victory. Soon they're all screaming and sprinting at the defensive wall around the city. When we reach the wall some climb it, others throw themselves up into the rain-choked sky to land amid the battlements to begin to cause chaos. Our breakers move forward and using their minds and equipment begin tearing down the wall. It cracks open quickly when a Cain arrives. The probability of total wall failure is changed. It falls apart into dust.

I walk through the rubble of the wall, untouched. Thunder crashes overhead and lightning flickers across the face of my blank, eyeless, black helmet. Around there is yelling and screaming. It’s a nightmare for the Nera. They let us get close and now they’re dead. Their guns work only so well and humans are wild animals. I don’t waste my time teaching my troops to use guns. The practice needed to maintain the skill is expensive and I could use the materials or money I’d spend on weapons and ammo to proeathan smugglers who don’t care about who pays, only that they are paid, to buy food and medicine for my people. Instead, I have them trained in our powers, more brutal and violent than anything the proeathans have ever seen out of psychics. And I train them to use old weapons. Swords and knives because proeathan armor focuses on protecting against bullets, they don’t protect against knives being jammed into joints or throats.

The Nera are reminded why when they find humans populations untainted by their hands that they are the apex predators of their environment. Just like my people were before I left them. They’re reminded why we evolved to eat flesh and to hunt and to kill. They die screaming.

We wash through the city like a rising tide. Proeathan run in terror but I’ve anticipated that. My troops were always in two halves on either side of the city. We started an attack on one side and the other side crashed into their rear. We move in a crescent and eventually, the edges of the lines meet, forming a ring of death. The streets run with blood and shit. Too much for even the rain to wash away.

Above we hear their numia try to lift off, get the leaders out. I look up at them and raise my hand to one. It drops out of the sky like a stone. The telepath with me sees it and broadcasts it to pockets of telekinetics. Groups of them bring down individual numia. It takes five to do what I did alone. There will be no survivors today. The Nera will be wiped out. Only those who already live in other nations, or Atlantis, will survive.

My blade tastes blood hundreds of times over. The rain ebbs as there was fewer Nera to slay. Where I walk I must do so over bodies. The rain stops when I feel no more proeathans alive enough to cause trouble.

My troops pick up bodies of their fallen to be cremated and check to make sure the Nera in the streets are really dead. Piles begin to appear along the sides of the streets as my troops push aside the dead so we can make way. I see soldiers but also civilians. ‘Innocent’ men, women, children, even infants. When I see them I think of my own children. My four sons. One already fights with us, he makes me so proud. The others are still too young but they hunger for it. They want to show their worth as my children that they are sons of a goddess in not just name but in being. I think of what they would have become of them if I was a slave. Based on how the proeathans treat us they’d either be gelded to ensure no accidental pregnancies happened or knowing how much proeathans love forcing their sikaz on us, they’d be made to impregnate many women to make more angels for proeathan gardens. Innocent boys turned into beasts of labor or sex objects. Yet somehow my sons have less worth than these children laid dead in the street according to proeathans. I feel no pity for the children, even less for the adults.

I arrive at the statehouse. There are only a few Nera alive still. The rain has stopped by now but the clouds are still low and ominous, churning green and gunmetal. The Nera king and his family are the only ones left. Their faces are streaked with tears and the queen has wet herself. I approach them where some of my troops have them on their knees. My helmet broadcasts nothing. Just blackness.

I stand in front of them and reach up, removing my helmet. Those surrounding all stop and bow low. They whisper ‘goddess’ and I bask in their love. The proeathans stare. They know my face. I’m their nightmare on the news. And now here I am before them, given form. I speak and don’t care if they can understand me. It isn’t for their benefit. I know someone is recording.

‘The Nera are gone. The cities of its nation are destroyed. Le Val was the last hold out but I have taken it in my grip. Now you are dead. Those few Nera in Atlantis, or who found asylum in other nation-states; your people are gone. Just as you wiped out the humans you chose to enslave so we wipe you out. Sucks doesn’t it? Look at what your pride has gotten you. Look at where your superiority has led you. Death. And this is not the end. You began this when you enslaved us, killed our children, raped our men and women, disfigured our people, forced them to work and die for you. You began it and we will finish it. Prepare for me, for a goddess comes for you, and I will rip your power from your greedy hands as thoughtlessly as you take water and food from my people.’

I look down at the Nera royals in contempt. Hatred even. I change the grip on my weapon and it changes from a cutting weapon to a bludgeoning one. A cry goes up when I smash it into the Nera king’s head. He screams and his eyes turn blue, trying to do something. I don’t smile. I just hit him again. Four hits and he’s dead, his skull burst and horrible on the ground. I do the same to the queen. The children get a lesser horror. I steal the air from their lungs and they suffocate knowing I killed them without touching them. I might be a monster made of rage and hatred but I do not allow for the suffering of children. More than what would be given my own. I feel nothing as they die other than the satisfaction that their reign of terror is over.

Around me, my troops chant my name. They scream and cheer. I lift my weapon and it becomes a sword. Now I smile. Above the clouds begin to grow lighter and slowly part, revealing an indigo sky of early twilight. A glorious day for a glorious victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are great, comments are even better, even if it's just to say 'this was cool!'. I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	85. Monsoon Season

There’s a sort of peacefulness to flying, Desmond thought. High above in the sky, he can see the ocean forever. They’re flying over Asia along the coast to get to the atoll, faster and safer. Unlike human planes, numia don’t make a whole lot of noise. They hum and vibrate but not like planes that rattle and drone. The softer hum makes everything lighter, less real.

Across from him, Altair is sleeping. Actually sleeping. Desmond was sort of amazed. He would have been more if Jacob hadn’t told him as they were leaving that he stuffed about five sleeping pills into Altair’s breakfast so he couldn’t work himself into a stressed out frenzy on the flight across the Indian. Altair was the only one with him. Desmond had asked the others to stay, prepare and wait for his signal to make a b-line for Atlantis. Wouldn’t have mattered if he’d asked Altair to stay, he wouldn’t have. Desmond hadn’t even been upset by Altair’s reasoning; “I waited a thousand years to make sure you saved the world, I’m not about to let you go alone where you can die away from me.” It was sweet, in a morbid way that Altair was. He’d wanted John to stay too but knew it couldn’t happen. John was one of their few actually offensive, proactively able, angels. He couldn’t afford to sit out a fight even though Desmond wanted him to stay for Tommy.

Desmond looked away from the window, across the numia. Tommy, the little shit, was there too. Desmond couldn’t help but think this was exactly how Altair felt when he did a dangerous thing he knew he really shouldn’t and this was why Altair was always frustrated and stressed out about him. Desmond had explicitly forbidden Tommy from coming to the atoll. Yet here he fucking was because erase his memory but Desmond was still Desmond and didn’t listen to anything he didn’t want to and just did whatever the fuck he wanted anyway.

It had been a big fight really, the only time they’d ever argued and Desmond’s head still hurt about the fact that he’d literally fighting with himself.

“What do you mean I need to stay here? That’s bullshit. I can help,” Tommy had said when Desmond had told him. He’d put it off until the night of so he couldn’t wear Desmond down about changing his mind.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“So you get to risk your life, but not me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“You do realize how bullshit that is right?” Tommy demanded.

“You aren’t trained enough, yet,” Desmond said, mainly just to placate him. He was trying really hard not to get heated and yell. Hard when Tommy couldn’t see that Desmond was just trying to protect him.

“Other than you I’m the strongest psychic you have.”

“You aren’t coming, Tommy. That’s the end of it.”

“You can’t just order me around, Des. I’m your brother, not your subordinate.”

Desmond felt himself getting angry. “If you come out to the atoll you could die-

“So could you.”

“Damnit, Tommy— I’m _trying_ to make sure you live through this shit. Alright? You need to stay here where it’s safe with the rest of the noncombatives. You’ve been— only had a few weeks since you lost your memory.”

“Well, I know enough about myself to know that I want to help you and not be stuck here alone in this place.”

“Dad’s here. He’s not coming either-

“You know what I mean, Des. Don’t treat me like an idiot. I’m an amnesiac, not a moron.”

Desmond had rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re not coming.”

“You need me-

“Yeah! To be safe! Don’t act so ungrateful right now!” Desmond yelled at him. That had stopped Tommy. “This point is where we’re all going to _die_ , Tommy. This isn’t a game or practice. Lots of us are going to _die_ out there. I’m probably going to die too. And damnit if I am then you can’t. You are staying here. Got it?” Tommy hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even nodded. “I am protecting you from a nightmare. So just let me protect you.” Even to his own ears, it had sounded like Desmond begging himself. Just to stop. Just too shy away from the horror that would happen in the coming days. “Stay here, be safe, and pray we all don’t die out there.”

Turned out his pleading hadn’t meant much to Tommy. He’d still stowed away because Desmond was a stubborn piece of shit. He’d been found a few hours ago while they were half way across India and Desmond had only not thrown a huge shit storm because there were others around to see him. Instead, everyone had taken a few steps away from him because the air around Desmond went up about ten degrees. If nothing else Desmond was glad he’d learned pyromancy since it meant he could literally just vent his anger off as heat. Tommy had been _so_ smug about it and Desmond had wanted to punch him in his stupid unscarred face. Instead, he’d just told a few Ilythians to stay with his brother at all times. He wasn’t to leave the numia when they landed. Hopefully, that would keep him out of trouble.

They were flying over jungle when Altair woke. Desmond was just dozing, fading in and out of sleep and waking. He was ‘awake’ when he watched Altair stir and then come awake all at once, sitting up straight and looking around in confusion. “What-

“Jacob,” was all Desmond said.

Altair was quiet for a second. “That’s why my breakfast tasted weird. Asshole,” Altair muttered and Desmond chuckled. He rubbed his eyes and got up, going across the ship to the lavatory. Desmond looked out the big window. Below he could see jungle and in the distance the unwavering line of blue ocean that stretched out to the horizon. They’d been flying towards the sun all day and Desmond swore it had hardly gotten any lower towards the horizon.

“Where are we?” Altair asked as he sat across from him again.

“Southeast Asia. Not sure where exactly,” Desmond said.

“Right,” they were quiet. “This better work,” Altair said.

“No shit,” Desmond said, still looking out the window.

“I thought you weren’t bringing your c- him,” Altair corrected when Desmond sent him a look.

“Turns out you can take everything else out except the stubbornness,” Desmond said. “He stowed aboard. I’m mad about it and don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” Altair said slowly. There was silence between them and at one point Altair left. Desmond was just watching the clouds and land as the sea faded into the distance. Altair wasn’t gone long and he came and sat down next to Desmond. “Hey,” he patted Desmond’s leg and he looked away from the window. “You should eat something. We’re over what was once China now, we’ll be there in another hour or so.”

“Not hungry,” Desmond said, turning away from the food Altair had brought him.

“Huh. Well, this feels familiar. Didn’t think I’d be on the other side of it,” Altair said. “You need to eat something, Des.”

“Don’t think I could keep it down, but I appreciate the offer,” he turned back towards Altair.

“Try,” Altair said.

“What are you, my dad?”

“At this point, basically. Now stop with the fucking back talk and have some damn crackers or I’ll do what Jake had to do to me during the five years we were looking for you. Trust me, it’ll be _real_ embarrassing for you,” Altair said menacingly. Desmond pouted but took the crackers and nibbled on them. He hadn’t been lying. His entire body was just in a knot, including his stomach. The thought of food was sickening but when he ate he felt a little better. Altair convinced him to eat a protein bar too but that was it.

They entered the air over open ocean and had been flying for a while when, for the first time, someone from one of the other numia contacted them. “We’re twenty miles out from the atoll,” it was Baldur.

“Don’t go any further,” Desmond said into his earpiece and their numia banked swiftly. “Keep the rest of the numia in a holding pattern. You’ll know the signal when you see it.”

“As you say, _Ando_ ,” she said.

Desmond sighed and got up. “Alright. Show time,” he said and stretched a little.

“You can do it,” Altair said, encouraging in his calm understanding.

“Heh. Let’s hope.”

The rest of the numia had stopped in midair behind them. Unlike planes, numia didn’t need airflow to generate lift. It was all magnetic field manipulation. Desmond’s, the smallest, was the only one still flying. He’d gone over the plan with the pilot before they’d left Demeter. Once they were close to the atoll they were to start to arc around it to give Desmond time and a wider reach. He had his limits and couldn’t affect as much air at once as he’d like so he’d have to keep moving.

Desmond went over to the big front window, the pilots flew from a rear cockpit located slightly above the cabin to see over it. This numia was the equivalent of a private jet and more roomy and luxurious than other numia. It also wasn’t built to fight at all. It was just meant to go _really_ fast. Desmond sat down in front of the convex window. He didn’t close his eyes as they blacked out and he reached out directly below and outward from him. Twenty miles was about the limit the influence of his mind had on these things and that sounded impressive but it wasn’t anything. It was a pinprick on the earth. He could feel the atoll out that far as the barest whisper of a thing and between him and it he felt ships filled with proeathans that all vibrated with nervous energy.

It took him a while to flush out enough of a pressure bowl that could create a big enough storm to really scare the pants off the proeathans. Having to fly in a twenty-mile radius circle enough times to start really forming clouds took a few hours. Huge banks of clouds formed at the edge of the circle Desmond’s numia was flying and then on a final lap he loosened his grip and the clouds raced across the sky, crashing down towards the little atoll. Desmond watched as the numia he was in darted up to be well above the cloud layer and it was almost like watching clouds fall into a valley. From above they looked so white, puffy, and gentle but he knew from below they looked threatening as lightning sparked across their face.

Desmond touched his earpiece. “Alright. It’s done.”

“We’ve got ships leaving,” Baldur said in honest surprise.

“Seriously? Already?”

“Yes. Half the fleet is in the middle of turning their ships to head south to get away and retreat back to Neptune.”

“Small miracles, right?”

“That’s not how we see it,” Baldur said. “Work of a _stadalla_.”

“Right,” Desmond was already tired. He got up and went back to his seat.

“Do, or die time then,” Altair said.

“Do,” Desmond said and that made Altair chuckle. “And they’re going to die.” As he said that the numia angled down into the clouds. It shook a little from going through the clouds and when they broke through they entered a rainless void. Outside the clouds were thick and black and green, almost red in the dark light. The other numia had broken through the cloud cover as well and they headed for the atoll.

As they got closer they saw that they were the least of the proeathan’s worries. They were scrambling but the unnatural clouds made them scared and slow. The numia they had with weapons made runs at the atoll, laying down fire for anything that might or might not go wrong. “So, where’s the rain?” Tommy asked from the other side of the numia, staring out the window. Like it resented Tommy’s dumb question it immediately started to pour.

The numia landed half in the water on the beach and Desmond took a deep breath as the door was opened. Around him the other numia were landing and the few hundred Ilythians Baldur had brought spilled out onto the sand, forming a perimeter. Desmond heard gunfire immediately.

“Ready for this?” Altair asked him, standing just inside the door and on the side to be out of direct line of fire. Mary was standing on the other side of the doorway, looking terrified. The rain was almost as loud as the gunfire. Unlike Desmond and Mary, he also had a gun. Desmond needed his hands free. Well, not really but he was still used to just doing things by thinking it and not using his hands as a guidance.

Desmond looked at the Ilythians remaining in the numia. There were five left, surrounding Tommy. The others had already booked it out of the numia to help clear the ground. “ _Keep him safe under any condition. Understand?_ ” he asked.

“ _We will keep him safe,_ stadalla _. On our honor_ ,” one of them promised.

“Good.” He looked at Altair feeling like he was about to throw up. “I’m not ready but let’s do this anyway,” and they stepped out into the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I like≠love this story!'. I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	86. Angel Song

The rain came down by the bucketful. Desmond was soaked in an instant even under the armor the Ilythians had given him. The rain made everything hard to see and why the fuck would anyone think this was a good idea to fight in a downpour? He couldn’t see a thing and everyone looked the same in the rain. This wouldn’t do. He had to see what he was doing, what was going on, where his men were. He went to his usual fall-back when it was hard to see but eagle vision didn’t help. It was terrible at capturing precise movements and everything just got more blurred. It made it so he could tell people apart based on color but they were just blobs in the rain. He expanded his sight instead and now he got it. The rain was too slight to make an impact in this sight so while everything was a bit fuzzy at the edges the rain was mostly gone. Okay, that made sense. Good plan when you mostly fought with humans against proeathans.

Desmond stepped out of the water and onto the water clogged sand, keeping his head down. He heard gunfire all around and already saw more than a few dead. Altair went in front and Desmond grabbed Mary by the arm to guide her along. “Open your eyes,” he told her because they were squeezed closed. When she did they were still scared. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Expand outward, you’ll clear the rain,” he said over the gunfire. At the very least she managed that. Desmond saw this was going to be an issue anyway.

They made their way over to where the other angels were. Some were more ready than others, others hid behind those who stood at the ready. Lucy was there too and like the rest of the highest ranked officers was wearing light gray armor so they stood out against the darker gray mass of their troops. Usually, it was the other way around but they'd changed the color to further confuse the proeathans.

Desmond made it to her, “Now what?” she asked over the sound of the hammering rain on their helmets and the sound of gunfire. Her eyes were black as night under her visor 

“Give them something to be afraid of,” Desmond said. “Just like we discussed.”

Lucy licked her lips and nodded. She turned away from Desmond and spoke to the angels. Desmond stepped back to Mary. “Ready?” he asked her.

Her black eyes were wide in panic. “I can't do this,” she said, sounding on the edge of hyperventilating.

“You can do this,” Desmond said. “Because if you don't they die,” he pointed at the other angels. “Don't let them die.” Mary looked at the others and took a deep breath. It helped a little but Desmond could tell she was still stressed out. Desmond switched to comms so his proeathans could hear him. “We're about to break it open. Give us a line,” he said.

“Aye!” Baldur cried, way too excited for her own good. She started giving harsh instruction in her own tongue and Desmond watched the way the Ilythian line began to bend and lengthen, stretching out across the atoll which was only a hundred or so feet across at this position. They’d chosen this spot to land for this very specific reason.

Desmond took a deep breath, glanced behind him and saw Lucy had her men ready. He lifted his hand and the sound of the rain just _stopped_. He felt a powerful human mind rise up behind him and block out the noise. Then the sound of yelling became muted and the sound of gunfire. Desmond couldn't even hear the sound of his own heart or his breathing. There was just no noise anywhere. The rain hadn’t stopped and the battle still pressed forward but all there was was silence.

Lucy could directly change the way things were perceived. Not illusions, illusions were too gentle a term for what she could do. She was more like an abel and tapped into the way the way things worked and how the natural order of things went about. She could then directly change them. Almost like a cain and abel in one. Lilith had been shocked, horrified, and so fucking smug when they'd figured out what Lucy could do. It was just one of the things she could do. Like Desmond, she really was good at multiple things. This was one of them.

The sensory deprivation freaked the Adjatevs out but they weren't done yet. Next came the illusion. With literally no sound they didn't have to worry about the fact that none of their illusionists could make illusionary sound. Instead, all they had to do was make a visual illusion. And they did, by making a few hundred more angels and thousand or so more Ilythians that pressed up against the backs of the Ilythians, imposing their existence with their black-eyed stares. Desmond saw a huge chunk of the Adjatevs forces break off and bolt. Between the rain, the loss of all sound, and now the illusion of so many angels it was too much for them.

Desmond grabbed Mary’s hand and walked forward with her. Altair prowled along in his footsteps as a second pair of eyes. Already Baldur’s Ilythians had constructed a small raised platform. It was only a few feet high and meant to give him and Mary a better vantage. “Ready?” he asked her again, his voice the only sound around them and it didn’t even reach Altair. She had a brave face on and nodded shakily. “Alright, let’s show them what it looks like when you side with me, huh?” he teased her.

She glared at him and in an instant her nerves were gone. “Only under protest,” she said firmly.

Desmond chuckled. “Of course,” and he reached out with his mind. He felt Mary next to him lift a hand out towards the Adjatev line. Desmond would be doing most of the heavy lifting in this since he was more powerful. The lack of sound was a help here. It meant the Adjatevs didn’t hear it when the very earth cracked open under their feet. Desmond winced. That hurt. He’d literally just split the land by an inch in a hundred foot line, moving such a huge quantity of earth that was usually reserved for tectonic plates or earthquakes.

Their side was starting to push forward and the other angels, the nonillusionary ones, moved forward. Desmond saw a streak of light of a fireball literally arc itself over the Ilythian line and smash into the Adjatevs. They didn’t even know it happened till several were dead. Their electromancer, who not even a week ago could only make little balls of static, called a literal lightning bolt down from the sky, throwing Adjatevs in the back line to the side like rag dolls. Their illusionists started mimicking that. And still, it was in complete silence. The fire and lightning and illusions of such a larger force of angels had more Adjatevs running. Desmond needed to open that hole more. He needed to do it now or the plan was shit.

He gave another heave with his mind. The hole opened six inches. He leaned down, hands on his knees. It was too much. He was too tired now. He was good but he couldn’t move as much earth as he wanted. Mary was doing her best but she had an even worse stamina than him and had already exhausted herself to moving the earth only millimeters across a wide distance as quickly as she could, the hole creeping open at a snail’s pace. Someone touched his knee. He looked over and saw it was Altair. “Desmond,” his voice was strange and distant without any other sound around them. Oddly hollow.

“I can’t do this,” he said, looking ahead. The Adjatev line was still holding and he could see behind them. They were bringing in storks, and above numia were starting to circle despite the bad weather. Some had run scared but there were more that were staying their ground. They were more afraid of losing and of letting the atoll fall under rebel control. Of letting it fall under Desmond’s control.

“You can do this,” Altair said firmly. “I know you can.” Desmond squeezed his eyes closed and tried again. The earth moved but not as much as he needed it to. “What can I do to help you?”

Desmond didn’t know. Altair was useless to him without psychic abilities and even the ones he had Lilith called abominable. Then he remembered something else Lilith had said. “Get me Lucy,” he told him. Altair nodded and walked off into the eerie silence of the battle. Next to him Mary had sat down, exhausted already. Desmond could feel the hole they’d dug. It was long and shallow and only maybe a hand width wide. Good enough to trip on something but good for little else. 

Altair came back with Lucy at a jog. Around her sound returned. They could hear the rain like gunfire and gunfire like a hail storm. Oddly enough around her, despite the sound, the world was calmer. It was the way the world should have been, and not how she was making it. “What is it? Is something wrong?” she asked, looking up at him, her pale brows drawn low over her black eyes.

“I need you to get your angels to do something for me,” Desmond said.

“What? Say the word,” she said.

“I know they aren’t telekinetics like me and Mary but they can still help us. I need you to have them focus on what we’re doing.”

“I don’t see how that will help,” Lucy frowned and looked back. She alone could hear the sounds outside of their little bubble and Desmond followed her gaze. Part of the Ilythian line had broken.

“Humans working together do more than one working alone. Even if they can’t help with the actual lifting the strength of many psychics who desire one goal will allow it to be reached,” Desmond said, pulling her attention back. “They need to think about opening the earth, or parting sand, however you think would be helpful to make a hole.”

“Cheerleaders. You want cheerleaders?” Lucy asked incredulously.

“Angel minds working together act like an _amplifier_ ,” Desmond said. “Just get them to focus on what I’m doing.”

“They won’t like it-

“Well tell them if they don’t they’ll fucking _die_ cause they can’t get their heads out of their asses long enough to follow simple ass directions,” Desmond snapped. She gave him a dark look which wasn’t helped by her eyes. “Just do it,” he said.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said and walked off quickly. They crashed into the void of silence again and it was so jarring Desmond’s ears rang.

“That’ll really help?” Altair asked him.

“I hope so,” Desmond said.

“Could I help?”

“You’re human right?” Desmond asked, sort of feeling like Lilith. Altair nodded. “Then you can. Think about the weight of earth, of moving dirt, pushing aside sand to build a moat.” Altair nodded a little. “It’s heavy, and wet, and doesn’t like to be moved. Think of each little dust particulate and how it makes up a handful of earth.” Next to him, he felt Mary’s mind rise up at his guiding words. She still stayed seated, leaning against his leg tiredly, but her mind was strong.

Behind him nothing happened. He kept waiting and pushed against the crack he’d made, again and again, trying to open it wider, deeper. The Ilythian line broke several more times but Baldur pushed them back into place. The line still bent and bowed and Desmond had a feeling the Adjatevs were starting to get wise to the fact that there weren’t as many angels or ground troops as they pretended there were. The storks had finally made it across the atoll and he couldn’t hear them but he could see their guns spinning up.

That was when Desmond felt it. It slammed into his back as a psychic force that made his eyes go wide but he didn’t even twitch. It felt like being hit in the back by a stone, or like he’d been slammed into the earth.

Desmond didn’t even think or hesitate or worry about how to use the sudden bolstering. He balled his hands slowly into fists and felt the earth _crack_ and tremble. The Ilythians pulled away in a hasty retreat as the hole yawned open under the Adjatevs. It was thirty feet deep and ran the length of the atoll. The hole curved perfectly around their entire line and even swallowed up the storks. They all crashed thirty feet down and then the water rushed in from both sides of the atoll. Who didn’t die from falling thirty feet were crushed by storks and who survived that now had to figure out how to swim in full, heavy, armor.

Desmond looked behind and raised a hand to Lucy. Sound came back immediately all over. Over comms he heard Baldur and other Ilythian leaders giving hurried instruction. Shortly after Desmond felt drained and weaker than before. Holy shit. No wonder proeathans hadn’t wanted humans to learn how to use their powers if they could do that. Desmond was pretty sure a normal human telekinetic couldn’t have done what he’d done even with all that bolstering. This was on another level.

With a groan Desmond stepped down from the foot tall platform and immediately fell to one knee. Altair grabbed him before he pitched forward onto the sand. “You did it. Knew you could do it,” Altair said.

“Only with help,” Desmond said tiredly.

“Nothing wrong with asking for some help now and then,” Altair said.

Desmond gave him a look, his eyes coming back, “Coming from you that’s rich.” Altair smirked but had no good comeback for that. Desmond turned on his mic. “Baldur, what’s going on with those numia? Do we have eyes on foot soldier survivors? And what about the rest of the fleet?”

“Sounds like the Adjatevs are in full panic,” Baldur said. “The fleet is scrambling to start bombing the atoll. From what we can tell by their patterns the numia are taking coordinates for where to hit.”

“Shit fuck,” Desmond groaned and stumbled to his feet. Altair tried to help him but he wasn’t in the mood and pushed the old man off. “Okay. What about the construct? I need to get there.” He started walking forward, Altair kept pace with him. Then he stopped and looked back at Mary who as staring at him in shock, wonder even. “Go to the other angels, Mary. They need you more than I do now.”

“Fuck you too,” she called over the rain. Desmond grinned a little and she did back. She laid back on the platform and Desmond turned back around, walking again.

“We’re dealing with survivors now,” Baldur said and as they came to the new river Desmond had made Ilythians were just shooting into the water. The water was about as deep as it was wide to catch all the proeathans and the storks. The bottom looked like it was covered in strangely shaped gray rocks, each one of them an Adjatev soldier or a stork.

“How long till the fleet starts bombing?” he asked Baldur.

“Our sea vessels are not quick. It will take them a few more minutes. They are probably looking for you.”

“And our numia. Are they safe?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m crossing the flood zone. The construct is on the other side.”

“Desmond wait till our engineers bring crossing gear-

“No can do, Baldur,” he said. “I’ve got _minutes_ to get in there, figure out how to work it, and stop that fleet from bombing you to kingdom come.”

“… I don’t know what that means,” Baldur said.

“It means they’ll bomb the ever loving hell out of you,” Altair supplied.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself,” Desmond said.

“Od would never forgive me if I let you go there alone,” Baldur said.

“Who’s _Ando_ again? I forget,” Desmond said sarcastically.

Baldur sighed deeply. “Very well, _Ando_ , I defer to your judgment.”

“That’s a girl.” Desmond black out his eyes and stepped out onto the river he’d made. His foot found purchase in the air as he lifted himself up. Before he’d taken three steps something snagged his hand. He turned back around, confused. “Altair?”

“You can’t order me like Baldur and like _hell_ you are going out there alone,” he said firmly.

Desmond sighed. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Last time you went into a crazy unknown temple thing alone you were in a coma for five years,” Altair said.

“That was proeathan stuff. This isn’t proeathan stuff.”

“I don’t care. If you go you’re taking me with you.”

“You’re like an extra hundred seventy pounds,” Desmond complained.

Altair looked at the water then up at Desmond. “You just made a channel across a hundred foot wide atoll over a dozen feet deep. Figure it out,” Altair said. His hand still had a vice grip on Desmond’s wrist.

“I had help,” Desmond said.

“Bullshit. No one but you could have done that. A bit of encouragement doesn’t count.”

Desmond sighed. “Alright.” He stepped down out of the air and back onto solid ground. “This will be easier than lifting us both,” Desmond said the rushing, churning, water of the fresh channel stilled in a line. The rain pinged off it like it was concrete. Desmond tested it and it held his weight.

“How are you doing that?” Altair asked.

“Just keeping the surface tension high,” Desmond shrugged. “All it is is a pressure balance and I literally just did that with all this damn rain,” he said, holding his hand out and catching some on his palm. “Now c’mon. If you’re coming, keep up,” and he walked across the water. Altair followed after a moment of hesitation. Desmond had picked a narrow portion of the channel to cross at and once they were both on the other side Desmond dropped the tension.

“Desmond,” Lucy said over the comms.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Where are you? Mary said you told her to come to us.”

“Going to the construct.”

Baldur’s voice cut through, “ _Ando,_ we’ve secured that all survivors have been dealt with. What are your orders?”

“Get everyone back into the numia and fly away,” Desmond said.

“What?” Baldur and Lucy asked at the same time.

“You’ve done what I needed of you. Now you need to get out of here. Keep everyone safe. Get them out of here before the fleet starts hitting you or those numia decide you’re easy picking. Make _sure_ my angels are safe. I’m going to need them for Atlantis too. Baldur you’re to make sure not a _single one_ dies, that includes making sure their commander doesn’t do anything stupid like try to follow me.”

“Desmond that’s-

“I understand,” Baldur said. “And what about you?”

Desmond stopped at the small cavern entrance that he’d originally entered so many months ago that had started this path to Atlantis. Inside the proeathans had installed lights to get in and look but didn’t know how to get in and do anything about it. The entrance was just barely big enough to squeeze through but outside light poured in from some other hole that hadn’t been there before. The proeathans had made a larger hole somewhere else. “I’ll be fine,” he said, putting his hand on the rock face. “I’ll come to you.”

“That isn’t reassuring, Desmond,” Lucy said.

“You trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me. I’ll see you soon. Baldur, get everyone to safety.”

“Yes, _Ando_ ,” she said.

Desmond turned to Altair who’d been listening to the entire thing. “Ready to see some shit?” he asked Altair with a wry grin.

“I was under the impression you were incapable of anything else,” Altair said dryly. Desmond chuckled and then started to squeeze his way through the gap and into the cavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I like≠love this story!'. I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	87. The Winged Word

The inside of the cavern was well lit and the proeathan had opened the top of the rock formation to allow numia to come in and out with supplies so the rain was ceaseless. Desmond could make it stop but that'd take too long to move a huge pressure system like this along. Instead, he just walked across the open cavern to the point of interest in the place. It was a magnificent manhole at least twenty feet across and perfectly round with a single notch in its otherwise smooth face. There were scorch marks on it and it looked like the proeathans had tried to dig around it to pry it open on one side but had been met with nothing but the ground. It wasn't a door to a bunker, it was a teleporter pad.

"Step on the pad, it's fine," Desmond said, squatting down next to the notch.

"This doesn't… look proeathan."

"It isn't proeathan. At least not proeathan we know. Ancient proeathan maybe, like the ones who made the Unnamed. Anyway good thing neither of us have any hair or this would give us a bad hair day," Desmond joked.

"What do you-

The notch was a switch. He didn't know why the proeathans hadn't been able to make it work. Maybe they didn't know it was a switch since usually for them holes in things were for vessels. As Altair spoke Desmond flipped the switch.

They weren't teleported. Instead, the entire stone cavern was replaced by a building. The sudden shift of things caused a huge build up of energy and it discharged harmlessly as static that made what little hair on Desmond's hair stand on end and give them both a little shock. "HOLY SHIT!" Altair cried. Desmond laughed as he stood up. "Where are we?"

"Far as I know, we didn't move," Desmond said and looked up at the glass roof. Numia buzzed erratically in the air above them while others stayed perfectly motionless like they were afraid of what Desmond had summoned.

The building was more like a room, shaped like a tulip, tall, smooth and curved walls and capped by a perfectly clear glass roof. The building itself wasn't much larger than the pad, maybe forty feet in diameter. The entire building honestly fit neatly inside the rock formation and the last time Desmond had been in here the ceiling had only shown the rock ceiling. The building was a pearly silver color, iridescent and perfectly smooth without any visible seems except along one part of the wall. There a thick engaged column of glass ran up the entire wall like a stamen and on the inside was a strange white liquid that moved sort of like lava lamp fluid. There was another circular pad in front of the glass tube upon which was the energy ball thing he'd touched last time to raise Atlantis. It was the same color as the lava lamp fluid in the tube. Like before the ball was active and glowed gently from the inside.

Desmond went over to the ball but hesitated touching it. Last time he had he'd passed out and he couldn't afford that right now. Still. He needed it. Whatever it could do, he needed it.

He remembered his conversation with Tiamat about the construct. How it was an amplifier and it didn't actually do anything by itself. But there were limitations. It could only affect certain things, though Tiamat wasn't sure what exactly. There were limits even to her knowledge. He was nervous about it. Supposedly it should only affect things fairly close to it but that didn't explain how it had reached across the world to Atlantis unless it could also affect alike things regardless of distance.

"So this is it? What now?" Altair asked.

Desmond had a screwy idea. "Hey Altair," he said and beckoned him.

"What?"

"Take off one if your gauntlets," he said.

"Why?"

"Lilith said your connection to the e'dn was an 'abomination' or whatever since you use it to manipulate people."

"Thanks for the reminder I'm an asshole," Altair grumbled.

"That's just telepathy in a way. I'm not a telepath, not naturally at least and haven't learned to do it. Tiamat said this construct would amplify abilities. So I was wondering… what would happen if a telepath got amplified instead of whatever the fuck I am?"

"Desmond, I'm not like you, or like those angels. I'm not able to do it on my own. You heard Lilith, there's too much proeathan in me and Ezio for us to be really capable."

"Just try it," Desmond said. "What's the worst that could-

The ground shook violently. "What?"

"Baldur what's going on out there?" Desmond asked into his comm. No answer. "Baldur can you hear me?"

Sound cut through in patches. "...fleet… -actuating— numia—" that was it.

"Baldur. Baldur-

The ground shook again and Desmond looked up through the glass. He saw numia moving in formation now. Not their numia. Enemy numia. Then he watched a missile arc across the sky and smash into the ground. "The fleet. It got into position," Altair said. "Desmond, do something or they're going to hit our people."

"Shit." He touched the sphere and was nowhere. He felt like he was falling and floating and drifting and nowhere. Then he was somewhere and he was outside his body who'd sagged across the big ball. Altair was leaning down to him but not moving. None of them was moving. He looked up and the numia hung suspended in air, perfectly still. Desmond was experiencing this at a different time.

Desmond didn't feel powerful like this. He felt like nothing. He started to freak out honestly. This wasn't what he expected. What was he supposed to do if he couldn't do anything? He went over everything he knew about the construct. It wasn't much. He just needed something. Anything.

Tiamat said it was am an amplifier. He'd used it to raise Atlantis. Right? Desmond didn't remember raising Atlantis. He just knew it had happened. The last time he'd been in here was just a black spot in his memory. He'd gone unconscious and when he woke up remembered nothing. He hadn't even remembered the feeling of falling and floating and nowhere. It was like the memory had just been erased.

That drew Desmond up short. Erased. His memory of it had been erased. Only a telepath could erase memories. What had Tiamat said in one of their last conversations? That she had helped him. She'd helped him. But more than that. He'd given her the strength to do what he wanted to do but wasn't strong enough to do. This thing wasn't to amplify yourself. It was to use yourself to amplify others. Why? Why would such a thing be built and how the fuck was it going to help him?

Desmond expanded himself, his eyes blacking out. He reached out and found Lucy. He couldn't reach her other than know she was there. He wasn't a telepath. She wasn't either. Shit. No one else in this place was a telepath. He could get Tiamat but he didn't know how or if that would even work. He looked around, feeling helpless. The only thing in this space was himself, the ball, and Altair.

Desmond immediately felt like an idiot. He went over to Altair and touched him, literally and figuratively. "Altair, can you hear me?" he asked.

Time moved forward a little as Altair answered him. "Yes?"

"Good. Also, for the record, I was right."

"About?"

"You being a telepath."

"You gonna gloat cause the way I see it you're the one knocked out right now."

"No," Desmond said. "I need your help."

"Okay, what do I do? Why can't you do it?"

"This thing doesn't let me do anything. It lets me amplify myself which amplifies others. I can give you a boost in ability you wouldn't be able to accomplish on your own since my mind is greater than yours." It was sort of like his training with Lilith in a way.

"Alright? I don't know what I can do, though." As they had talked the world was slowly progressing in time. Every time they spoke the missiles got just a little closer.

"You aren't going to like what I'm about to suggest."

"I rarely do, tell me," if Altair could have he would have sighed. As it was his mind voice sounded tired.

"Let me hijack your mind so I can use your telepathy to contact Lucy and Baldur," Desmond said.

"Desmond… I don't know if that will work."

"It'll be just like an Apple."

"That doesn't inspire faith in me," Altair said with trepidation.

"Or all our friends can get blown up. Up to you."

"You're a real sweet talker, kid, you know that?"

"Yeah but you love me anyway," Desmond said with a smug grin.

"I feel like I should resent that, but I don't so you're off the hook for this shit," Altair said. "What do I need to do?"

"Don't resist," Desmond said. All he got from Altair was the feeling of a grimace. Easier said than done.

Connecting telepathically with Altair was like trying to press into a brick wall. It was odd when the last telepath Desmond had dealt with, Tiamat was so easy to do so. Desmond had figured an untrained mind like Altair's would be easy to get into. Of course just because Altair was untrained with telepathy didn't mean he wasn't resilient to those getting into his mind, trying to control him. He was excellent at resisting the Apple after all. Desmond had to squeeze into the cracks of Altair's ironclad mind but once he did it didn't take more than a solid push to get him out of his own head.

Time moved at half speed. Desmond couldn't directly control Altair but he could push it into a better position. He felt it, oddly enough, as Altair's tangled and uncoordinated first telepathic venture crashed into Lucy like an over excited dog. It was mostly funny to watch Altair's face shift in slow motion as he went through emotions, new black eyes going wide in absolute surprise. He could hear Lucy and Altair talking at a distance, like across a field or through a keyhole. He didn't know what they were saying but he knew Altair would relay important information to her. Desmond just had to stay in Altair's head to give him the boost he needed to keep connected.

By the time they were done the missiles had impacted. A slow tremor went through the ground and even Desmond could feel it. Altair was also standing and looking towards where Lucy probably was.

Then time slowed to a crawl again. The tremor stopped mid motion and the world was silent. "Lucy says that they're evacuating but they can't do it quick enough. The numia are shooting them and the fleet is making good shots. They blew up one of our loaded numia already." Desmond swore. "She and Baldur are doing what they can but they don't know what they can do other than what they're already doing. We don't have big guns… well, we have one big gun and I'm talking to him," Altair said.

"Shit shit shit," Desmond rubbed his face. What now? "The angels?"

"All still alive. Lucy is too nervous to evacuate them for fear the numia will get shot down. She's having them create a massive illusion over the entire army to make them look invisible but it's taking time-

Altair had hardly finished before Desmond threw his mind out and across their three illusionists. They were so shocked by Desmond's sudden presence on their minds they lost focus. The illusion shimmered and they became visible again. He urged them to go back to it but they were unsure. He heard them ask Lucy about it and Lucy had no idea what he was doing but her words were clear, "This is my will. Now make the damn illusion before we all die!"

Desmond helped them craft the huge illusion faster and better than they had before. The three of them seemed outright amazed by how quickly the illusion came together. It turned the entire army into sandy terrain and the numia above buzzed like angry wasps. He didn't hear but he did see as Baldur had her people scatter. Didn't matter where they went. They just had to get out of the place they'd been before. They'd since brought out crossing apparatus to navigate Desmond's channel and were moving further into the atoll. Desmond stayed with the illusionists long enough to make sure they could maintain this illusion before leaving them. He jumped back into the atoll construct with Altair to better communicate.

Desmond tossed Altair's mind out of the amplifier so he could get information from Lucy about what was going on. Time moved at half speed again and Desmond waited nervously as Altair came back with news; bad news. "Baldur says that some of hers intercepted comms from the fleet. They're going to try and blow up the amplifier," he said gravely.

"What? How? This thing is as indestructible as proeathan material."

"Well obviously if you create indestructible materials you have a way to break through that material. Even if it doesn't destroy the construct it will level this entire atoll."

Desmond was dead white. "What's the weapon."

"Baldur said it's a bunker buster laser."

"A laser they have a fucking _**laser**_?" Desmond demanded.

"Apparently. Death Star style apparently."

"Motherfucking proeathans," Desmond groaned. "Shit shit shit. How do I stop that?"

"A laser is just light. Bend it like you do with your invisibility," Altair said.

"How do you suggest I do that while in here?" he demanded. "Mary isn't anywhere near powerful enough to bend light. She doesn't have the ability."

"No," Altair agreed. "But— and you aren't going to like this suggestion but. You could get Tommy to do it."

"No. Nope. Absolutely not. Far as I know he's already off the atoll."

"Desmond, be reasonable," Altair said.

"Why does everyone always want to put me in horrible danger?!"

"He's not you," Altair said angrily. "You can't go around demanding everyone treat him like your brother and not your clone and then keep acting like he's you. Either he's his own damn person or he isn't. Make up your mind!"

"He's my clone, who I'm pretending is my brother," Desmond hissed back. "I don't know how this is a difficult concept. You don't even treat him like he's an actual living thing. This is literally the first time you've ever used his name. Don't fucking lecture me how I try to keep him safe since I've got to be out here in the shit because no one thought it was a good idea to keep me safe."

Altair threw both his hands up. "This is not the argument we need right now! There's a death star laser coming to blow up the atoll and the construct, Desmond. We need a light bender. There's you but I don't think you could do it alone and we don't have time to get an angel of any caliber into the construct to amp you. There's also Tommy. Zero sum game. It's this or Tommy and everyone on this atoll dies anyway. Suck it the fuck up."

Desmond hated being told that. He hated being told to just get over something like he hadn't had to do that all his entire fucking life. Even though he was unconscious his body was still connected to his mind and he vented his anger as heat from his pores. He literally started to smoke. But he knew Altair was right. He knew, he just didn't want to admit it. He needed a moment to calm down. Thankfully with how fast he was processing this entire thing and how slow the world appeared he had the time. Altair let him work out his hissy fit knowingly and that just irritated him even more. Then he remembered all the stupid hissy fits Altair had had since Desmond had known him and didn't feel so bad. Altair had definitely been mad about dumber stuff than wanting to keep something as precious to Desmond as Tommy was at this point safe.

He sighed. "Alright," he groaned. "Alright."

"Se you agree to use Tommy?"

"Yes. Fuck. I hate it but I am not an idiot. I see what needs to happen."

"Good." Desmond flung Altair's mind out of the amp again. This time out to the numia Tommy and his guards were on. The guards were still there. That was good to see. Altair came back quicker than Desmond expected. "Tommy says he wants to help but 'my brother's goons' won't let him."

"Tell him to be ready," Desmond said with a roll of his eyes. "He's about to go god mode."

"You realize that reference will be lost on him, right?"

"Altair! Now is not the time to argue about geek culture references my clone will and won't understand."

Altair chuckled and went back to Tommy to speak with him. Desmond followed after. Even up close mentally they sounded far away. Altair gave him a nod. Tommy was waiting. "Hopefully they won't be too mad," Desmond said to himself. He wasn't sure if this would work. He touched the minds of the Ilythians and with _hodori_ said, "Go to sleep. You've done what I asked you. Now just go to sleep." The Ilythians immediately laid down and went to sleep.

Tommy saw it for what it was and ran out of the numia into the rain. Desmond had Altair direct him to Lucy so things could go easier. Then Desmond touched Tommy with his mind. Neither of them were telepaths. They were just the same person and their minds connected without issue. Desmond immediately tried to make sure Tommy couldn't see into his in case he saw anything that would break the fragile lie he'd constructed for him. "Oh, this is much easier," Desmond said.

"What's going on? Why's everything so slow?"

"Don't worry about it. I need you to do something serious," Desmond said.

"Okay? I figured if Altair was talking to me and acting all nice it was serious," Tommy said. "What is it anyway?"

"I need you to light bend."

"I… don't know how to light bend?"

They both looked up when even at this slow sleep they heard a new droning noise. It sounded like something powering up. The laser. The generator for that thing had to be gigantic so it made sense that it made so much noise even with the fleet so far off. They were officially shit out of luck. "Well you're about to figure it right now," Desmond said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I like≠love this story!'. I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	88. The Freer: A Half Tern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer is a bad time of year for me. Same way people get winter depression I get summer depression and makes it hard to write.
> 
> Please forgive any verb tensing or I/him mistakes. I haven't written first person like this in a very long time. I tried to catch the mistakes but some might have gotten through.

I don’t know a lot. Real character flaw that I’m actually a huge idiot about a lot of stuff. I just work with what is given me and wing it. It’s really all I can do. Even if what’s given me is my brother talking right into my head and telling me I’m going to learn to do an impossible thing. I can sort of move earth, I can control fire pretty well, and now he just told me I’m gonna have to bend light. What the actual heck? I can’t do that but Desmond says I am gonna do it anyway so I guess that’s happening now.

“Move forward,” Desmond’s voice in my head said. I really wish I could see him. Things are a lot less scary and stressful when Desmond is around. He has that effect on things. Anything that seems impossible is less impossible with him around.

“Tommy, where are you going?” Lucy called after me as I took off. No time to answer her. She doesn’t even like me anyway. No one likes me. Not really. Well except dad and uncle John but family doesn’t really count.

The whirling noise gets louder as I run and Desmond is in my head. He’s not saying words or if he is I can’t really understand him. I can understand the intent at least. The way to shift photons around. I’m still not sure I can do that. Desmond says, very loudly, “Doubt means you can’t. You’re my brother, you _can_ do this.” Right. Right. Of course I can.

There’s a temporary but not makeshift bridge across the fresh channel Desmond made on the atoll. There’s a lot of darkness down at the bottom and under the bullet-like pebbling on the water’s surface I can see the water is almost opaque with blood. I crossed it quickly, not looking down. Can’t look down. The whirling turns into a groaning sound as I came up to the side of the construct that is literally just a small mountain of rock. From here I can see the rest of the atoll out in front of me. On the other side of the construct is the Adjatev camp that looks like a bunch of upside down plastic cups with doors all clustered together. But in front of me is the sandy atoll and then the ocean beyond. In the distance I can make out the dull shapes of the proeathan fleet ships through the rain and a blindingly bright point of light far out against the horizon. The source of the horribly loud noise. It’s so far away how can it be so loud even on the atoll?

It’s like when Lilith told me things. Desmond filled my head with all the knowledge I needed to light bend. Having the knowledge and using it practically are two very different things. It felt like things were moving at super speed when Desmond did that and whenever he touched my mind it felt like things just started moving too fast to process. I’m not good at this. I can’t focus like this. He must have felt my distress because he eased off and things moved at a more acceptable speed.

The whirling and groaning stopped. “Now or never,” Desmond said and I was glad he made things move faster because it was the only reason I could even see the beam approaching. I realized it wasn’t that everything was moving faster. Just _I_ was processing things faster. I tried to do what he’d told me and even with Desmond basically behind me like he had his hands on my shoulders it didn’t work. It was too much light and heat for me to deflect as my first time. Panic welled up inside of me. “Hey,” Desmond said, his voice kind and without any panic or hurry, “You got this, okay. Just like you had it when you fixed my dumb brain.”

I still have nightmares about it. Desmond doesn’t know how much I _didn’t_ have that. The fear of perfect failure killing the only thing I knew had been a real weight on me. And I’d sort of seen into Desmond’s head that one time. There was a lot in there. A lot he wasn’t telling me. But it was like staring into a void. Even though I’d been dealing with the physical aspect of his mind it was apparently impossible to separate a psychic’s physical form from their power. It was like the ocean we’d flown over earlier or like those videos I’d been watching with Clay and uncle John. Just an endless sea without a bottom or edge. There was something unknown and horrible about my brother that had terrified me while fixing him. Maybe it was just a powerful psychic thing because Lilith had felt the same way but different. There was a hard edge to Lilith. There was none for Desmond.

The fear of losing Desmond and of staying so close to Desmond’s psychic mind had eventually made me do something that neither of them had suggested. They’d taught me to stitch things together, or zipper things open or closed. I tried that. I tried it a hundred times and all it did was make the hole bigger. In the end I fixed the problem by just forcing the cells to replicate and grow faster than usual, naturally healing the bleeding wound. I’d felt Lilith’s honest surprise when I did that. I got the feeling that wasn’t something she saw every day.

If this was like then then there is no way I can light bend this dang laser beam. “Hey, Des,” I said aloud but realized my mouth hadn’t moved. So maybe it just sounded aloud.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t light bend. Not this fast. But I do have another idea.”

“Yeah? Wanna share with the class?” he asked. I did and he laughed. “Okay. Let’s try that.” It felt like he wrapped an arm around my shoulder in my mind. This was so weird. “Show them what you got lil bro.”

“We’re twins,” I protested.

“Yeah but I’m like three hours older. Meaning you’re my little bro,” Desmond laughed. I didn’t know how he could laugh or joke in this situation. “Humans are weird like that. When faced with death; we just grin and laugh at it.”

“We’re an insane species then,” I said. I secretly hoped I didn’t become like that. Human socialization so far had been really strange even though I was one of them. A lot of things everyone just did didn’t make any sense.

“C’mon. Do it,” Desmond encouraged.

I closed my eyes and my hands clenched. I imagined a huge glass pane in front of the laser made of air. Making the air solid was a ridiculous thing to do since everything in air was so far apart. But with the same impossibility of Desmond being able to control photons like it was nothing I made solid air, aligning the molecules into a perfect, interlocking web. It happened in a single instant and I knew was way stronger and faster than I could ever hope to accomplish alone because Desmond was with me.

I opened my eyes and time sped up to proper speed. I was just in time to watch the laser crash into my solid air and ricochet off into the air. “Woah,” I said.

“Good job!” Desmond cried. “Now let’s cover the entire atoll.” I didn’t know if that was possible but when Desmond helped me it happened in less than a minute. The air shimmered as it became hard and reflective. The numia tested their bullets on it but they just hung suspended in mid air and slid down the sides into the ocean. I could feel Desmond's approval radiating from all around me. It made me feel good like I'd really done something great.

I felt Desmond's presence leave me and next to me in the mountain something huge moved. Then it moved again. Desmond's mind voice came back. “Everything is going to be fine, now,” he assured me. I watched as Altair walked out from a hole in the side of the boulder pile. He came over to me and I shied away. Altair was mean to me. He was always mean to me. Jacob said to ignore him but it was hard when every time you saw the guy he glared at you like you were a mistake. It didn't help for my seriously tenuous self confidence even a little. “He won't be like that now,” Desmond suddenly said in my head. I wasn't quite sure I believed him.

Altair finally got over to me and without asking grabbed my hand and started taking me back to the rest of everyone. He wasn't mean about it at least. We were half way there when he said, “That's one way to stop the rain. Desmond couldn't do that.” That was when I realized my shield was actually preventing the rain from landing. I hadn't even noticed. 

It took me another solid minute to go. “You just made a joke. Jacob said you don't joke.” I was completely stupefied. Everyone always talked about Altair like he was a hard ass and perfect. Didn't laugh or smile or joke and sure as shit didn't enjoy things that didn't involve him being able to be an asshole to others.

“Jacob has a big mouth,” Altair said.

“Yeah he does,” Desmond said.

“I fucking heard that. Shut up,” Altair growled and I just wanted to curl up and wait for him to go away. Altair was so scary when he sounded angry. I just heard the sound if my brother's laughter in my head. I didn't understand the joke and my brow furrowed. “Ask him when you see him, I'm sure he'd be _happy_ to demonstrate.” Well that cleared up exactly nothing.

We made it to the rest of the army without incident and Altair found Lucy and Baldur in conversation, trying to figure out what to do next. “Altair! Where's Desmond, is he okay?” Lucy asked as soon as she saw us.

“What's he doing here?” Baldur asked and gave me a look. Neither of them liked me if for very different reasons I wasn't exactly sure of for either.

“Desmond is still in the construct,” Altair said.

“What? Did he stop that laser?” Baldur asked.

“Yes, and no?” Altair said. “Tommy did it, Desmond helped. The construct doesn't do anything by itself. It acts like a giant psychic amp. It needs a psychic to remain inside to be of use, Desmond thinks the more powerful the psychic the better the amplification. And he's the strongest we got.”

“How convenient that it's better for him to not be with us instead of letting someone stay behind and do it to him,” Lucy said.

“No it isn't,” I said.

“I was being sarcastic,” she snapped at me. She looked at me then above my head like she could _see_ Desmond hovering above me. “Fuck you, Desmond,” she said. I practically hid behind Altair.

“No need for that,” Altair said. 

“So he expects us to leave without him?” Baldur asked.

“Yes,” Altair said.

“I can't do that. Od would have my eyes if I left Desmond behind.”

I felt Desmond rapidly throwing information into my mind and when I spoke it was less like I was talking and more like he was and just using my mouth to do so. “How small is our smallest numia? Desmond asked that by the way,” I said.

“We brought a twenty foot scout but it's on the other side of… of the force field,” Baldur said, like she couldn't believe she'd actually said that.

“Bring it in. It can fit inside the construct. When I- Desmond is done they can come to us,” I said.

“Nothing can get through the force field, we can't even get out,” Baldur said.

“I made it, I can open it--” I paused. “I can do that?” I asked aloud to what Desmond said to me. In my head my brother laughed. “I can protect it coming in to land too.”

“You are very confidant,” Baldur said.

“That happens with him,” Altair said. “Kid doesn't have an unconfident bone in his body if he puts his mind to it. Right?” he asked Lucy.

Lucy sighed. “Yes,” she agreed. “It was very annoying sometimes before all this. Bad for his health,” that made Altair scowl at her. What were they talking about? I wanted to ask but didn't dare. At least Baldur seemed as confused as me. “There's no use arguing with him. Desmond does what he wants and we can't leave without Tommy lowering the forcefield.”

“What about the construct. They can attempt to blow it up again,” Baldur said and we heard the whining noise start again. I looked back towards the ocean nervously but Desmond assured me nothing was wrong with the hard air I'd made the laser wouldn't be getting through. “As I was saying,” Baldur said.

“It's made of the same material as the Unnamed,” I said for Desmond. “You never figured out how to break it. There isn't anything they have that can get into it once it's closed.”

Baldur frowned. “Very well. I see no other option if we want to join our main forces out in the Atlantic.” She started talking in her language to her underlings and I felt Desmond listening through my ears.

‘You understand that’, I asked him. ‘Yes, I know a lot of languages, one of them just happen to be Ilythian’, Desmond said. ‘That's amazing.’ ‘You can learn one day, too.’ ‘If I live that long.’ Desmond said nothing to that but I could tell be didn't like me talking like that.

“I have our scout coming in,” Baldur switched back into English. “It is being attacked.”

“Where?” I asked.

“There,” she pointed and I turned and followed her gaze.

‘Just like before,’ Desmond said in my ear. ‘I'm here with you.’ That, more than anything, was encouraging. I saw the numia scout.

“Tell them to fly totally straight,” I said. “Stop evasive maneuvers so they don't run into my shield.” I heard Baldur relay the instructions as I formed a tunnel of hard air coming off from the lumpy and faceted dome I'd made. “I told them to keep straight,” I said as the numia ended up banging into the wall a little. It felt like a pressure in my head. The numia didn't do it again and I opened the dome enough for it to slip through. I closed it up behind it and cut off the tube. 

The numia behind it ran right into my force field. I buckled and someone caught me before I face planted right into the sand. The barrier stayed up but the crash at high speed had caused the numia to explode. “You okay?” Altair asked me. He was the one who'd caught him. 

“Yeah,” I said. Oh my head hurt. My head hurt so much.

Altair got me upright and I felt some cloth being pressed against my face. “Nosebleed,” Altair said.

“Oh,” I took over holding the cloth to my face.

The scout had landed nearby and the Ilythians got out. They were replaced by a single pilot. The numia lifted up and flew over to the construct. ‘Hey, get ready,’ Desmond said in my head.

‘What?’ I had time to ask before feeling another shot from the laser smash into my barrier. It made me woozy. This was too much. I wasn't going to last much longer. “We need to evacuate,” I said. “I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.” My nose was still bleeding and it wasn't stopping.

“Once we get confirmation from Desmond,” Lucy said.

“Most of our men have already been moved into the numia,” Baldur said.

I felt Desmond's presence leave mine and it worried me. I couldn't keep up a barrier this large by myself. The numia were shooting it again and with a bit of sustained fire they tore through my hard air and struck the sand. If the others were talking I didn't listen. I was looking at where the numia were shooting through my barrier. There was a shift in the air like a huge lightning strike without the flash or sound once, then another a few seconds later.

‘Okay, I'm back, what I miss?’ Desmond asked me. I was glad he was back. I couldn't do much without him. 

‘My barrier,’ was all I said and motioned to it. I couldn't repair it without his help. I wasn't strong enough. Desmond saw the problem immediately and with his help we repaired it.

“So how are we going to do this?” Baldur asked. I realized they were all looking at me. No, not at me, they were looking at Desmond through me. They expected my brother to know what to do and for me to tell them what he said.

“I need to be in a numia with the rest of the angels,” I said.

“They won't like it,” Lucy sighed, she sounded as done with them as Desmond did.

“Desmond says they can suck it up?” I wasn't sure what that phrase meant really, I was just repeating what he said. Lucy smiled a little. Not at me, about Desmond. “I'm going to open the barrier and we all need to leave at the same time. I… I don't think I can do that,” I said to Desmond and then realized I'd spoken aloud.

“Do what?” Baldur asked.

The whirling of the laser weapon had started again. Shit. I answered Baldur anyway. “He wants me to keep the barrier around us while we fly. I don't know if I can. It's impossible.”

“So?” Altair asked. “That's kinda Desmond's deal. Doing impossible things.”

“I'm not him,” I said.

“Close enough,” Altair said like he knew something I didn't.

“How many times can they shoot that thing?” Lucy asked Baldur.

“A lot,” Baldur said with a frown. That was worrying.

“We have to go between shots,” I said. “I can’t protect this place and the numia at the same time.”

“Reasonable,” Baldur nodded. “I’ll get everyone into the numia. We leave as soon as the next shot is fired. I assume the construct is safe?”

“Desmond thinks so,” I said. “It’s made out of the same material as the Unnamed and you’ve never managed to dent that before, have you?”

“No,” Baldur frowned some more. “Well, let’s do this then. _Sengar_ Od will not like it when I tell him we left Desmond behind.”

“You could not,” Altair said. “Just pretend he’s Desmond,” he nodded at me.

Baldur looked at Altair, then at me, then back at Altair. “Don’t say jokes. You know I don’t understand human sense of humor.” Altair chuckled. “Take him to the angel’s numia, we’ll lift off after the next blast of the canon.”

“Of course,” Altair said. It made me nervous when Altair was so agreeing. Altair steered me away from the two women, both of who stayed and talked for a bit longer. He led me to a larger numia than the one we’d come on. It was closed but opened when we got near.

Everyone stared at us when we entered through the stairs. I gulped. I wasn’t good with crowds. I wasn’t on the best terms with these people either. The only ones who even talked to me were uncle John and Mary. Mary was off to the side, secluded from the rest. Ignored and scorned like I was. ‘These people are idiots,’ Desmond said in my mind.

‘What?’

‘Just listen to Altair,’ was all he said and returned as a quiet presence in my mind again.

“What’s he doing here?” one of them asked. I didn’t know who. They didn’t talk to me enough that I knew any of their names really.

“He’s saving your ungrateful asses now shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and listen to instructions,” Altair said. If I shrunk away the rest positively cowered.

 

“The Angel will be here shortly, don't disappoint.” I knew Altair meant Lucy but I still wasn't sure how she had earned such a title as The Angel when they all were. I knew now was not the time to ask. Altair and I sat down, away from the others. I really wished uncle John would come over but he didn't and that made me feel bad.

‘He's reading the scene, don't be sad,’ Desmond said. ‘Once we're underway I'm sure he'll come over.’ That did reassure me somewhat.

Lucy boarded shortly after us and once inside she removed her pale grey helm. “How's everyone doing?” she asked. Only with her helmet off did she not look like she'd kill any of them with a look. I knew why my brother had been in love with her in that moment. She always seemed too stern for him. My brother was so easy going and Lucy was so not but in an instant I knew why. Her short hair plastered to her skull with rain and looking every inch the general she was she was wonderful. And yet she still asked about those under her, those who looked up to her. It didn't hurt that she was super hot.

‘Oop, sorry,” Desmond said. I didn't know what he was talking about. ‘It's cause I'm along for the ride.’

“Oh,” I said aloud. Altair looked at me curiously but I had nothing good for him.

‘She really does look good in that armor, though, doesn't she?’

‘You like weird women, Des, ‘ I said. That made him laugh. He didn't disagree either. 

Lucy made sure everyone was sitting and ready to go. She told everyone to be ‘in their eyes’ which I realized meant black eyed. It took me longer than that to realize I hadn’t even realized I’d been like that the entire time and Altair was periodically going in and out. It had already become common for me. Half the time I saw my brother or uncle they were like this and most of the humans I interacted with looked like that too. I know some of the angels said it frightened them to look too long at an empowered one of them. I’m not sure why. To me it looked normal.

‘Get ready,’ Desmond said after another few minutes. I heard Lucy say the same thing almost immediately afterwards. How? I nodded a little and winced when I felt the laser smash against my shield. It made me light headed. ‘Don’t worry, we’re almost done,’ Desmond assured me gently. ‘Take a nap when we’re done. You’re going to need the rest.’

‘That isn’t inspiring,’ I said dryly. What was Desmond planning now?

A few seconds after the laser hit the numia lifted up from the sand. I released the shield around the atoll and as fast as thought I crafted another one with Desmond’s help around our airborne fleet. This one was smaller but it had to bend and move around me so the numia could fly without crashing into it. I had to be aware of all the numia in the fleet and where they were and what they were doing and their speed. It was more taxing to maintain than even the huge atoll one to hold against a laser. My nose started bleeding again. I felt woozy.

“Okay everyone, just like before. Make us disappear,” Lucy said. I had no idea what she was talking about. I hadn’t been paying much attention to her. Too focused on the force field.

‘Des?’ I asked as I felt him recede from my mind a bit. He was still there but not as present.

‘I’m here. Just helping these guys out too,’ Desmond said soothingly. I nodded and leaned back in my chair. I was getting a headache now.

I felt more than saw a shift of the world around us. There were no windows so I had no idea what was going on. I just know I heard gunfire and felt it smash against my shield. Desmond shifted his attention back to me before the bullets tore through my shield. ‘We’re about to go faster. Be ready,’ Desmond said. I nodded, exhausted now. I just wanted to rest now. I felt it when the numia started moving faster as we accelerated north and then banked sharply east towards the land mass known as North America. I had to shed some of the mental strain. I let go of some of my shield so it no longer created a perfect bubble but instead it was like an umbrella. It helped relieve some of the strain but it wasn’t enough. Desmond didn’t tell me I could stop.

An hour later my hard air was ragged and I could only keep it fully formed at the rear where I was worried we’d be shot at from. Finally, blissfully, Desmond said, ‘You’re clear. You can stop.’ I’d never been so glad to shrink my vision. Around the cabin I heard groans of relief from others and I looked around at them. They all blinked their own eyes back into place. The only one still black eyed was Altair who was sitting there, unmoving, staring at me. The black eyes didn’t help him be less scary but I wasn’t afraid of him because of them. Then, unblinking, his pupils shrank back down to his amber eyes.

“You alright?” he asked me.

“Tired,” I said softly.

Altair nodded. “Get some sleep. We’ll be stopping on the east coast of the US in a few hours for food. Everyone’s to get some sleep while we can,” Altair said.

“I’ve also got a killer headache and nosebleed, still,” I said weakly. I hoped I didn’t sound too needy. I hated people pitying me.

Altair got up, went over to Lucy. They talked but I couldn’t hear them. Lucy pointed at someone sitting and brought them over to their conversation. As they did someone came over and sat next to me. “Hey, uncle John,” I said weakly.

“Hey, kid. How you doing?”

“I have a headache,” I said weakly.

“Heh, so do our illusionists. You guys did some real shit back there,” he said nicely.

“I thought shit meant a bad thing?”

“It can mean good thing too,” John said unhelpfully.

“That’s stupid,” I grumbled as Altair came back over with the other person in tow.

“Sit up, let Fabian take a look at ‘cha,” Altair said. I sat up mostly straight. I knew Fabian. He was an empath. Our only one. He _really_ didn’t like me. But he looked like he’d been thoroughly chewed out by Lucy and didn’t even sneer when he touched my temple with one hand. I closed my eyes peacefully as calming and relaxation entered my mind. My headache receded and my nose stopped bleeding. Thank goodness.

“There, I did it. Can I leave now?” Fabian asked Altair.

“Yes.” Fabian retreated. “Fell better?” Altair asked me.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Still exhausted, though.”

“A nap will fix that,” John said. I nodded tiredly. “But we should get you out of those wet clothes first. Everyone else is wearing water wicking stuff to help with that. You’ll catch a cold like that.”

“I really don’t care right now. I am just so tired,” I said. “I could sleep for a week.”

“Not happening. Go with John. You can sleep when you get back,” Altair said. I really wanted to not do as he said but I got up and went anyway. I knew from watching and Jacob complaining that it was just easier to just do what Altair said. I followed John to the back of the numia. There were some Ilythians back here and they were bickering to each other. I didn't know what about. John did all of the talking and then we were ushered to another part of the ship where there were actual bunks, more Ilythians, and changes of clothes. This wasn't just an ‘airplane’ like how humans thought of. Numia were more like mini bases or flying camps. I wondered why proeathans would build their aircraft like this. What would make them make aircraft so… livable?

John gave me new clothes. “You can sleep in here too,” John said.

“What about the others? Are they going to sleep here too?”

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they're afraid of leaving the front. They know there are proeathans back here and their scares of them.”

“You're not,” I said.

“No. Because I know the proeathans are more afraid of me then I am of them,” John said. The proeathans were afraid? It had never occurred to me that they would be afraid of us, afraid of angels. “But they are. So they'll probably rest up at the bow. Now change, get some rest. I'll come get you when we stop for food.” 

I nodded and John left. I changed out of my sodden clothes and into the dry ones. The bunks were small. Basically pallets on a board. But there was a blanket and a pillow. I fell asleep instantly. My sleep was far from dreamless.

I was standing in a perfectly white room without any walls or ceiling or floor. A thick, white, mist swirled around my feet. Off in the distance I saw two figures. One was huge and I could barely see them. It wasn't that they were tall or wide. They just _felt_ huge. The other figure was slight but not frail. 

I walked towards them. The huge figure noticed me first and turned and looked at me. For a moment they were formless and I knew what I saw before they seemed to shift and turn into the familiar shape of my brother. I recognized the horrible depth of his mind immediately. “Tommy, what are you doing here?” Desmond asked me.

“I don't know? I'm sleeping right now.”

“Ohhhh,” Desmond nodded like that made all the sense in the world. “I think you hitched a ride on Altair's mind while we were talking since he's the only one open for dream sharing right now.”

“Uh… what? I know all the words you just said but _what?_ ” I asked.

“Don't worry about it. This is actually good.”

“Why does Altair’s face not make me think it is a good thing,” I said.

“Cause Altair never has a good face,” Desmond said and only because it wasn’t real did he grab Altair by the cheeks with one hand. Altair looked positively done with him but also like he knew he couldn’t stop Desmond either. He let go of Altair. “He’s been relaying to me about Lucy and Baldur and what’s going to happen at Atlantis.”

“Oh. What is going to happen at Atlantis?” I asked.

“Something completely fucking ridiculous,” Desmond said with a grin.

“Fantastic,” I sighed.

“So the plan we originally had was to distract the Adjetavs with crashing a numia onto the island closish to Atlantis, then we were going to actually come in on another side, further away, and dig in; literally.”

I grimaced. “I think I know where this is going,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” Desmond asked.

“I’m going to be doing a lot of digging,” I said miserably.

“Yeah, you are,” Desmond said. “But I’ll be there with you.”

“Desmond, he shouldn’t be here. If you need him to do this he needs to rest. Both of you need to rest,” Altair said.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said.

“Maybe, but he’s not,” Altair pointed at me. “Let him go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t bring him here.”

“Well then send him away. He’s in a rough way.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Desmond frowned at me. “Turn off your brain, Tom, I’ll be in touch when you’re closer to Atlantis.”

“But how? We’re so far away.”

Desmond laughed. “Tommy, you’re my brother. I can find you anywhere,” he beamed at me and it made me feel good. With Desmond nothing was impossible. I nodded. “Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” Then they were both gone. I finally slept without interruption.

It was basically the best sleep of my life that I could remember other than the first time I woke up from the accident. I slept hard and deeply. If I dreamed I didn’t remember and didn’t wake once until someone gently touched my shoulder. I woke tiredly and looked up. It was uncle John. “Hmm?”

“Hey sunshine,” he teased me. “Time to get up. We’re on the east coast and you need some grub before we hit Atlantis.”

“I don’t wanna eat bugs,” I grumbled. That made uncle John laugh. I didn’t know what was so funny about trying to trick me into eating grubs.

“C’mon, time to get up,” he grabbed my arms and pulled me up and off the bunk. “You slept all the way across the Pacific and America, how do you feel.”

“Like I got hit in the face with a brick,” I groaned. My stomach growled. “And food sounds good, I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go,” John motioned and I put on my shoes and followed him to the main cabin where the humans were. They were in the middle of eating whatever rations had been handed out and talking amidst each other. I sat down next to John and he gave me some as well. I was starving.

As I ate I looked around. Everyone looked nervous except for Lucy. As usual she looked completely fearless. Everyone was mostly dry too. Off to the side was Altair, sitting, arms folded, eyes closed. I looked at uncle John. “So what’s going to happen?” I asked him quietly amid the other conversations.

“We’re waiting for the rest of the fleet to rendezvous with us, including the Ilythian flagship. Once they’re here we’re going to head out from Florida and cross out into the Sargasso Sea.”

“Oh… what’s that?”

“It’s an area in the Atlantic where the currents cause huge amounts of floating seaweed. Apparently it was because of a sunken island the size of the big island of Hawaii down there disrupting the currents… you get that?”

“I have no reference for that, but okay,” I nodded. Uncle John grimaced a little. I just wanted to finish my meal. ‘Des?’ I thought. I knew he wouldn't hear me if he wasn't listening but I gave it a try anyway. No reply. I finished the rations. I tried again just to make sure he wasn't listening. “Hey, uncle John.”

“Yeah?”

“What was mom like?” I asked. Desmond and dad didn't like discussing it. John looked uncomfortable.

“What have your brother and Bill told you?”

“Not much. They don't like talking about her cause of what happened to her.”

“Oh… mmm. Yeah. Well…” He stalled. I watched him do it 

“Uncle John, please,” I said.

He sighed. “Your mother was… one of a kind,” he said. “She was very independent and didn't like being told what to do and drove our father _crazy_. Hmmm. Gosh, sorry kid it's just been such a long time since I saw her even before she died,” he was thoughtful. “What do you want to know?”

“Did she love us?”

John was very quiet. “I think so. She kinda ran away from home-

“Like Des did?”

“Sorta,” John said. “We didn't see each other a lot. We'd talk on the phone sometimes and our dad always threatened to get your dad arrested or get a restraining order or something but there wasn't much he could do. He was very protective of your mother and loved her fiercely.”

“What was her name?”

John blinked. “They didn't even tell you?”

“No.”

“Kaley. And you had other uncles too you know and lots of cousins. We had a big family.”

“What happened to them?”

“Proeathans,” John said. “Proeathans happened to a lot of families. Honestly I'm surprised I'm still alive. I'm older than your dad and really wouldn't have made it if the proeathans ever captured me.”

“I'm glad you are,” I said. “Do you like my dad?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I can tell Desmond doesn't like him very much even though he said they'd made up. None of the ark leaders like him either. They all treat him like trash.”

John looked conflicted. “Your dad has… some unpopular ideas about things. He's also very outspoken about. It leads to people not being the biggest fans of him,” John explained.

“But so does everyone else. Desmond does unpopular stuff all the time and he just does whatever he wants.”

“Your brother is different.”

“How? Why?” I knew my brother was different. So was I. But somehow I was just different while my twin was impossible. No one had ever really told me why, just that it was. I wanted to know. Desmond always said later. Just trust him and he'd tell me everything later. When was later during the apocalypse? Especially one where he always talked like he was going to die before it was over. _When_ was I ever going to know?

John looked torn but before he could say anything he glanced over me and I turned. Altair was looking at us. I instinctively shrunk away. “I think these are things you should ask your brother,” John said.

“He won't tell me,” I said softly, mostly to myself.

“He's probably got a good reason,” John said.

“Are you scared of them, uncle John?”

“Who?”

“The ark leaders, my brother?”

“Not really. After living with my father nothing really scares me much anymore. Are you?”

I looked him right in the eye. “If you knew what my brother looked like you'd be afraid of him.” That confused him. He looked over my shoulder and this time when I looked Altair came and joined us, standing in front of us.

“Need something?” uncle John asked him.

“The rest of the fleet has joined up with us. Od wants you around,” he said looking at me. “You're an easier link to Desmond than me.”

“Right. Yeah,” I got up and waved goodbye to uncle John who lifted a hand in a similar wave. 

I followed after Altair and we went to the back of the numia and into another part I hadn't seen before like a command center but it was small with standing room only. Baldur and Lucy were there and so was another Ilythian I didn't know the name of but always saw around Baldur so assumed he was a helper. There was one person sitting which was someone working the electronics components of the room. The big screen showed Od and partially showed him sitting in a captain's chair. As soon as he saw me his eyes went to me and I did my best to not flinch away. I really hate when people looked directly at me like the proeathans sometimes did. Disapproving.

“Where are Ezio and Hawk?” Altair asked Od.

“Hawk is finishing with my engineers on the numia we're going to crash and Ezio elected to stay with the human troops for moral support before we fly into dangerous airspace,” Od said.

“Hmm,” Altair narrowed his eyes at Od but Od didn't notice or care.

“Where is Desmond I think is a much better question and not this… replacement.” I did my best to show no emotion. He looked at Baldur and spoke to her in their tongue which I couldn't even begin to comprehend. They had a brief exchange that made Od sigh deeply and rub his eyes and bridge of his nose at the end. Then he looked at me. “Well?”

I shrugged. “He'll come, I was just speaking with him. He said he was going to eat and then be present,” Altair answered for me. Thank goodness.

“That does us no good now-

‘Hey, bro, what I miss?’ Desmond suddenly asked in my head. Time slowed to a crawl as his words came through at the speed of thought 

‘Od is being mean to me,’ I said.

‘Hmmm. So I wanna try something. It might feel scary on your end but might be easier.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘I want to kinda hijack your mouth so I can directly talk through it.’

‘You can do that?’ I asked and felt a figurative shiver run down the back of my neck.

‘Maybe? I think so? Maybe just with you since we're so genetically similar.’

‘I thought you could only amplify others in there?’

‘This is more just baseline me.’ Another shiver. In just a few hours my twin had gotten significantly more powerful than he had been the last time we talked. I should have been used to it. I watched him make a _storm_ out of nothing when just a few days before he'd been staring up at the sky like it held impossible knowledge.

‘Will it mean I don't have to talk to Od?’ I asked.

‘Basically,’ Desmond said.

‘Well. No harm giving it a try I guess,’ I said.

‘It might feel scary but you'll have control back real quick so try not to freak out.’

‘No promises.’ As I said that I felt the impression of Desmond giving a grimace.

Then it was like I was shifted a bit to the left. I quite literally saw double and it gave me terrible vertigo. I became horribly aware of my body and then I became aware of something else _inside_ my body. It felt like I was being filled with liquid, over filling my skin like I was about to burst like a fly I squashed while learning telekinesis above ground. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when the hugeness that was my twin loom over my shoulder like he rested his mental weight on my shoulders. I could imagine it as a great, endless, ocean. Utterly crushing in its immensity.

The feeling of being filled with liquid made my body move and I had no control over it. I said something in a language I didn't understand and Od looked shocked. I was utterly rooted and couldn't move my head or blink and even my breathing felt utterly alien to me. “I'd really appreciate it if you all were nicer to my brother even when I'm not here to give you the stink eye,” Desmond said with my mouth and I didn't… sound like that. I felt my already panicked state start to rise. “Now, I don't have a lot of time nor can I really move so let's do this quick. Is the crash numia ready?”

“Yes. Hawk is doing final calibrations for the auto pilot with my engineers,” Od said.

“Good. Lucy, Baldur, how are my angels?”

“Freaked, but managing,” Lucy said, she sounded like she was the least freaked or surprised by this turn of events. “Your interference unnerved some of them since you're you.”

“Well they're going to need to get over it and give us at least partial cover while we work.”

“They'll do it,” Lucy said.

“And the majority of our troops?”

“They're prepared as best they could have been,” Od said. I nodded. No, Desmond made my head nod and I felt disoriented, which wasn't helped by the double vision. My panic was still creeping up.

“So the next thing to do is get the numia in position. Outside of their gun range and create the diversion. Maybe even crash the numia close to their base. Oh, that'd really freak ‘em out,” Desmond said and my mouth smiled in an unnatural way I recognized immediately as Desmond's reassuring grin. It wasn't reassuring for me. “While they're distracted we'll set up camp.”

“I still don't know how they won't just bomb us,” Baldur said.

“Tommy is going to dig us a hanger and we're gonna fit our biggest ships in there. Smaller fighters stay in the air to act as a nuisance until we have disembarked our troops. The big ships will leave and head back to the mainland where the little ships will pick up the rest of them and bring them back here. A cavern capable of holding all our big ships will easily hold our squadron of fighter numia,” Desmond said like it a fool proof plan 

“And what about the fact that there's now a huge hole in the cliff?” Od asked.

“My angels will make it looked closed,” Lucy said. Desmond nodded and I felt sick.

“We all know the plan?” Desmond asked.

“What about you? When are you coming?”

“Oh, right. You're to hold that position til I meet up with you. Once Lucy has the illusion up and in place I'm leaving and coming to join up with you, “ Desmond said.  “Now is that all? I _really_ gotta go.”

“How will we contact you?” Od asked.

“Tommy or Altair. Now really.”

“Wait I-

Didn't matter. Desmond pulled himself out of my head and body and it was like there was a great, inaudible sucking sound that made my ears pop.

‘Sorry!’ Desmond cried but I barely heard him because the feeling of finally being myself and out of the nightmare feeling of being, basically, possessed triggered something I had no control over. I screamed. As loud as I possibly could. Like I was trying to exert my will back on my body after control had been stripped from me. Like I was making sure I was the one who could do things.

Everyone was staring at me but screw them. Once I finished screaming I walked out but only made it a few steps out the door before I turned to the wall and vomited my meal back up. It was not a gentle thing and I felt like I was gagging on my own puke as it came up and I couldn't breathe. I could only gasp, heave, and puke some more. Very quickly there was nothing left and I just vomited stomach acid which burned my throat and mouth.

I ended up on the other side of the corridor my knees drawn up to my chest, shaking. I'd never experienced anything like that before. I'd never even thrown up before.

“Don't do that again,” I choked out like a sob and didn't realize I couldn't really hear my own voice.

‘I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know you would react like that. I promise I won't do it again,’ Desmond said in a rushed, panicked fashion.

I glanced up when someone came  over to me and crouched next to me. I was surprised when it was Lucy. What was she doing here? “Hey, you okay?” she asked and her voice was the only thing I could hear. It took me a second to realize her eyes were black.

“No,” I said. She frowned but not in displeasure. She was worried about me. That was a nice change of pace that someone other than my family was worried about me.

“Let's get you up. We'll have a short time before the plan goes into effect.” She grabbed my elbow and with more strength than I thought she had in her body dragged me to my feet. She took me to where I'd slept earlier and set me down on a bunk. She left and came back with water. “What happened?” she asked me as I drank to try and wash out the taste of vomit and stomach acid. I was hungry again.

“Being used as my brothers speaker was not a great idea,” I said softly.

Lucy frowned. “Can he hear me right now?” she asked, I nodded. “You’re a fucking idiot and completely inconsiderate,” she said to the space above my head like she could see Desmond hovering there in worry.

‘I didn’t know that would happen!’ Desmond protested uselessly to me and I weakly told Lucy what he’d said.

“That was a gross over display of power for Od’s sake and you know it. You could have easily done what we did before or used Altair to broadcast to everyone.”

“He thought it would be easier, faster,” I said. I had a horrible headache again. Dangit. I pressed the heel of my hand to my temple and felt the blood pounding furiously. “He’s not going to do it again.”

“Good. You better not or the next time I see you I’m kicking your ass.”

My brows went up a little at what Desmond said. “He says he takes the threat seriously.”

“He should,” she huffed and folded her arms, glaring above my head.

I hesitated. “I don’t mean to be a paid but I’m starving,” I said. “I haven’t eaten since before we landed at the atoll.”

Lucy deflated a little. “Just stay here,” she advised and left me there. I didn’t need to be told twice and laid down on the cot. I kept one eye open and saw Desmond sitting next to me.

‘Well, I’m in the dog house now,’ he sighed.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, still rubbing my head.

‘Means she’s mad at me and I’m in big trouble.’

“I thought she didn’t like me.”

‘Girls are complicated-

“Everyone is complicated,” I protested. It wasn’t like girls had the market on being complex or confusing. Guys were too.

‘It’s extra complicated with her,’ Desmond said. ‘You two… well, you knew each other before you lost your memory. Didn’t have the _best_ relationship.’

“Dang,” I muttered.

The door opened. It was uncle John. “Hey, kid, Lucy told me you had some sort of attack. You okay?”

‘Don’t tell him,’ Desmond said.

‘Why not?’ I asked him and time slowed to an absolute crawl.

‘He’ll worry. I don’t want him to worry. He’s too protective.’

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

‘Not where we’re going.’

“Getting there. Did she send you with food? I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah, she did,” uncle John said and sat down right where Desmond was sitting, passing right through him. “Baldur sent me with this, too,” he held up a little injector gun. I’d seen them before when Desmond took me to Demeter’s med lab after what happened with Lilith. She’d wanted to make sure we were both okay.

“What’s that?”

“She said it would help. Didn’t tell me what it was,” he eyed the injector gun with a bit of distrust. “But she said it would ease your psionic overload… or something. I don’t know this whole psychic stuff is way too magical, don’t you think?”

“No,” I said honestly. “This is all I know.” His humoring smile dropped. Looked like he’d forgotten that part.

“Right. Well, she told me to let you eat first before you got injected. We’ve got an hour or so before we move forward and then we need to wait for the signal. Then I guess you’re up?” Uncle John asked me as he handed me another helping of the rations.

“Yeah,” I said and started to eat. Last time I’d used the little plastic utensils included. I didn’t even bother this time. Who even cared? The stuff was basically gelatin colored and pressed into a shape. It wasn’t worth wasting time with utensils when I could pick it up in one hand and eat it just as it was.

“What’s that entail?”

“You’ll see,” was all I said. I didn’t like lying or not telling uncle John what was going on but Desmond was right. I didn’t want to make him worry. I didn’t want him to be upset by what I told him. “Is dad around?” I asked.

Uncle John’s face was a bit disapproving. “He’s on a numia with the rest of the fleet. I don’t know where,” he said. 

I nodded and finished the rations. “I want whatever that is,” I nodded at the injector.

“Alright,” uncle John said. He took my arm and rolled it over so the inside of the elbow was exposed. “I don’t know what this does,” uncle John said.

“Desmond would have said something if it was dangerous,” I said.

“Oh… yeah I guess so,” he nodded. He pressed the cool tip of the injector to the soft inside of my arm. There was a soft click as the needle pushed into my arm and I felt a prick but no other pain. “Feel any better?”

“Headache’s gone,” I said.

‘You should honestly just take another nap,’ Desmond suggested. ‘You want to be asleep for _venszin_.’

‘Why?’

‘You have wicked dreams and you wake up feeling awesome. I’ve used it a few times. _Venszin_ just makes you hate being awake. Baldur said she was sending along a very mild dosage for you to help you relax and rest off what had just happened.’

‘Oh. That was nice of her,’ I said. “I’m going to lay down now,” I told uncle John aloud.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll leave you to it then. Someone will come get you when it’s time,” John said and got up. Desmond hadn’t moved from where he’d been sitting. “And maybe you wanna turn down your eyes some, hmm? You’ve been in them since I got here,” he suggested gently.

“Probably,” I said and laid down with a sigh. I closed my eyes. “I’ll see you when I wake up,” I said.

“Sleep well,” uncle John said and left me there.

There was silence in the little bunk area. I kept my eyes closed and went out of the e’dn. I opened my eyes and Desmond was gone. There was someone else sitting there instead. A pair of men were sitting there instead. They were utterly foreign looking to me. ‘Hey, Des?’ I asked.

‘Yeah?’

‘You see this?’

‘See what?’

‘There are these two guys sitting on my bed.’ I sat up and waved my hand through them. They weren’t real but they also didn’t seem to notice me. They weren’t even looking at me.

‘Two guys? What do they look like?’ I tried to describe them to Desmond but as I did the very image of them alluded me. I couldn’t describe me. ‘They sound like angels trapped in vessels. It’s hard to get a read on them.’

‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘I don’t think so? I’ll have Altair give your brain a once over before we start to make sure there’s nothing wrong. You should be fine.’

‘Okay.’

‘Just get some rest. You’re going to need all your strength.’

‘Okay,’ I said again. I watched the two strange men for a few more minutes. They were just sitting, looking at the wall, not moving, not looking at me. I eventually closed my eyes. I had strange dreams. Very strange dreams. Mostly about my brother and I couldn’t explain them. I knew they weren’t me. Somehow I just knew that the person in this dream was _not_ me. They weren’t bad dreams. They were just so odd. I dreamed of a farm out in the middle of rolling hills, an endless sky, horses and mucking stalls. I dreamed about climbing trees and going down to the creek and walking out past the dirt road to a field with hills in the background. I dreamed of our dad before his hair had gone grey. There was a woman too, but I couldn’t remember her face and another man who had a horrible face that was smooth and featureless. He had no face. I woke feeling sticky wetness on my hands when someone came into the bunk room and gently shook me awake.

“Hey, get up,” it was Altair. I stared up at him, not comprehending. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

“You have a face,” I said.

“What? Get up, we’re in holding outside of Atlantis,” he grabbed me and pulled me up to a sitting position. The dream was already receding. “Hold still,” he ordered and I did. Better just to do what Altair said then argue about it. Above me Altair chuckled.

“What? Something funny?” I asked.

“Desmond hasn’t figured that one out yet,” was what he said. That just kept confusing me. I looked up and saw Altair’s eyes were black out. Right. Shoot. Altair was a telepath or something right? “Stop thinking so much. You’re making this extremely difficult and it’s hard enough without an Apple,” he said. How did you think less? Was I supposed to think of just one thing or think of nothing? Why did I not need to think so much? What- “Thomas, stop thinking,” Altair said almost like a threat. I didn’t realize my actual name could instill so much fear and obedience. I immediately just thought of nothing like when I meditated with Desmond and Mary. He made a noise in his throat but I didn’t know what it meant and muttered something under his breath in a language I didn’t know. Desmond said I knew a _bunch_ of languages. Would be real useful sometimes. “C’mon,” he dragged me to my feet.

“Where?” I asked even as I followed after him.

‘We’re switching numia again,’ Desmond said helpfully.

‘Why?’

‘Easier to get you close to Atlantis on a small numia then a big one like this.’

‘Great.’

Altair took me to the wall of the numia and there was a door and two Ilythians standing on either side. They looked at me and Altair and then one of them opened the door. The numia was hanging motionless in midair and had a pair of stubby wings we were over. At the end of the wing was a smaller numia, the door was also open. Between us and the other numia was about twenty feet of open space and below several hundred feet was the dark mid Atlantic ocean. I swallowed. “This looks like a bad idea,” I said.

Altair turned and looked at me, “I won’t let you fall,” he said. It was surprising how much that actually meant to me. He took a step out of the numia onto the wing and immediately was buffered by wind. He almost lost his footing but found his balance. We weren’t moving but up this high the wind still blew.

‘Let’s give him a hand, huh?’ Desmond said. I didn’t understand what he meant and then the perfect understanding came to me. _Oh_. I could do that? ‘Can I do that? Says the guy who literally made a fucking forcefield that withstood a laser that had the power of a tactical nuke’, Desmond said sarcastically. I didn’t know what a nuke was. ‘Better you don’t know,’ Desmond said.

I blacked out my eyes and focused. I created a barrier against the wind, more like a stiff but flexible piece of plastic then a wall so the wind could easily go over it. It stopped the wind and when I stepped onto the wing there was no wind to buffer me. I followed Altair across and hopped onto the new numia. It was the one we’d flown to the atoll in yesterday. I thought was yesterday. I wasn’t sure I’d passed through a new sunrise or sunset yet. We were the only ones here other than the three pilots. Altair sat down and I followed his lead. As soon as we were sitting the numia turned and at incredible speed we dived. I felt my stomach lift up into my throat and my eyes felt like they were floating. I didn’t like the feeling. It felt like my brother was possessing my body again.

Then we leveled out at a sharp turn and I nearly fell out of my seat and we coasted to a stop at the edge of a great cliff face. ‘Just got confirmation. Numia crashed successfully,’ Desmond said softly. ‘Time to go to work, bro. Go up to the front where you can see better.’

‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ I said.

‘You can. You’re my twin brother. You absolutely _can_. And if you don’t a lot of people who don’t need to are going to die.’ I nodded and scrambled to my feet. I went to the front of the numia where there was a large glass dome in the front I could see the cliff out of. ‘Ready?’ Desmond asked me.

‘No. But let’s do it,’ I said.

‘All the other angels are with you too, not just me. Uncle John is rooting for you, so is dad. You can do it,’ Desmond’s voice was so soothing I really did believe him. ‘I know you can do it. Let’s make sure they _never_ call you my replacement again,’ Desmond sounded angry but also excited about the prospect. I wasn’t nearly as excited. I just nodded and my eyes blacked out.

It was like being punched in the gut. I felt Desmond’s mind bolstering mine like back at the atoll. But more this time. He’d gotten better at it already and now I could feel the full weight of him. Not like when he’d possessed me and I’d been scared. I was still scared but this was a different type of fear. This was the fear that for the first time that I realized… Desmond wasn’t really stronger than me. We were just different. Having the full weight of a powerful psychic’s mind like my brother’s opening mine to the possibilities of what I could actually do if I wasn’t afraid of it was enlightening. I looked at the cliff and saw all the ways the stone fit together and how dirt and sand and seeds clung to the edges and how eroded it was from thousands of years of being under water. I didn’t see them but I knew the way molecules arranged themselves to form the structure of the rock I was looking at and then-

There was a sharp crack and a huge chunk of rock fell off the face of the cliff and into the deep blue water below. What was left was a perfect sheer and smooth rock face. As I watched now a long, deep, crack started to form along the top of the smooth rock face. I kept it nearly perfectly straight and it expanded as I moved my eyes along it. ‘See, knew you could do it,’ Desmond said. ‘This numia has an observation deck, you know.’ I immediately knew what he was referring to and left the dome and found the outside observation deck. It was easier when I could feel the wind, smell the salt of the sea, hear the waves crashing against the cliff and the rocks tumbling into the water below.

I focused on the crack and it grew and grew and cut deep into the cliff. I made it follow the first cut I had made into the cliff face. Then I cut it into slabs and using just my mind, and with help from Desmond, I pulled the slabs out from the cliff and sent them crashing into the ocean below. It was slow, but regular, work. I developed a rhythm and soon it became routine. It still took time. I was moving tons of stone at once. With Desmond’s help it was easy, trivial. I hardly even noticed. The cave started out shallow and small and grew deeper and deeper until darkness greeted my eyes from within it.

I felt Desmond retreat some. ‘Okay, that’s enough,’ he said. Once he was gone I felt small. The massive power I held moments before was gone and sucked out of me like a sponge absorbing all the water in a bit of spilled water.

“That’s it?” I asked aloud.

‘That’s it?’ Desmond laughed. ‘Tommy, we’ve been here like four hours. I think we did _plenty_. And the crashed numia did its work. The Adjatevs have no idea we’re here.’

“That’s good, right?”

‘Yes. Very. I’ll make sure everything goes okay then I’ll be joining you,’ he said.

“Okay. Though I think we work better like this.”

That made Desmond laugh. “Yeah but unfortunately only one of us can enter the Unnamed; and it isn’t you.’

“Why not?”

‘Dunno. Proeathans are weird like that. Only one chosen one at a time or something.’

“I liked feeling like that,” I told him and the ocean and the huge hole in the cliff. I looked up when a shadow passed over me. Our numia. The big ones. They were coming in for a landing inside the cave I’d made.

‘Like what?’ Desmond asked me.

“Powerful. Like I’m not just a weak little baby in a man’s body. Like I can _actually_ do something.”

‘You could always do that, I just showed you how,’ Desmond said. I shook my head a little.

“Any ideas on those weird guys I saw?” I asked him.

‘No. Might just be left over projections from our empath and their involvement with a vessel.’

I nodded a little and the door opened. Altair had me come back inside and the numia went into the huge cavern I’d made. Another numia was landing there and as soon as it touched down it opened up and dozens spilled out. They moved with quick efficiency to get out of the numia along with the equipment they’d brought to set up a base of operations. Me and Altair left our own numia and Altair immediately went off. The numia lifted off and I was alone. I didn’t know what to do. Even Desmond had left me. He was probably talking to Altair or someone more important than me. I didn’t mind. I was starting to get a headache again.

I went and found a place out of the way and with more struggle than ever before I pulled rock out of the bottom of the cavern and sat down. I could hollow out a huge cavern with Desmond’s help but I could barely make a stool without him. Useless. I sat down and rubbed my head. Maybe now that this was done I wouldn’t have so many headaches. I closed my eyes and something like the dream I’d had came back to me. I couldn’t rationalize what I was looking at. It was my brother and an older boy who looked just like dad. Dirty blonde hair, grey-blue eyes. He was sitting on a couch with Desmond, reading to him, outside it was raining. Why wasn’t I there too?

‘You good over here?’ Desmond’s voice asked all the sudden.

‘I think… I’m remembering something,’ I said.

‘What? I mean- that’s good!’ Desmond wasn’t a good liar. People liked believing his lies but really he wasn’t great at it. ‘What did you remember?’

‘I don’t know. Some kid. He looked a lot like dad.’

‘Oh.’

‘Was that a memory?’

‘Hmmm-

Before Desmond had a chance to answer me, or lie to me again, someone jogged over to me. “Hey, bud, what’re you doing in the dark over here?”

“Oh, hi, Jacob,” I said. I looked around. I must have lost some time, there were a lot more people in the cavern now than before and even more were coming. “My brother send you?”

“No? Why would he?” Because he’s lying to me. I didn’t say that. Jacob was Desmond’s best friend. I wasn’t really mad at Desmond for lying to me. He always had a good reason. Or he didn’t want me to be afraid. I appreciated him trying to take care of me if nothing else. “Altair’s looking for you is all.”

“What’s he want?”

“He and Cain wanted to do a patch job on you before it got too far. They’re worried.”

“About what?”

‘The men you saw,’ Desmond supplied. ‘You shouldn’t be seeing them. It could be very dangerous. Altair told me something was giving.’

‘Like how dangerous?’

‘Well because of it Clay tried and almost succeeded in killing himself and I almost died too. It isn’t something to ignore. Now go with Jake.’

I got up. I was pleasantly surprised when Jacob hugged me. “You were amazing by the way,” Jacob told me and gave me a little squeeze. “And I heard what you did at the atoll,” he stepped back and little and I knew Jacob meant every word he said. “You’re a real hero.”

‘Tell him he’s gonna make me puke.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it.’

“Desmond said you’re gonna make him throw up-“ I wasn’t expecting Jacob to throw his head back and laugh.

“He’s just jealous. Fuck you too, Desmond,” Jacob grinned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I didn’t mind Jacob’s touches much anymore. Now that I kew he was actually genuine and he wasn’t just projecting onto me. Jacob led me away from my burl and to where a base had started to be constructed and stopped at a three sided building made of some pop-up material. “I swear I left them alone for five minutes,” Jacob groaned. I could hear Cain and Altair talking on the other side of the wall. It sounded like they were arguing but I could only guess since they spoke in a language I didn’t know. I didn’t want to be involved with this. “Just wait right here,” Jacob said and left me there.

I heard him go into the three-quarter building and his voice was… different. Different accent and he just started scolding the both of them in the same tongue they did. Cain chuckled, finding it amusing, but Altair’s voice was resigned, annoyed. He was only in there a few moments before he came back around. “Okay, they’ll see you. I’ll come get you when they’re done and we can get you some grub.” I nodded. Again with the grub. Did people put bugs in the food? Was that why they called it grub or was it- I stopped thinking anything when Jacob kissed me on the cheek and left me there. Oh. Okay. First time he’d done that.

‘Bro, we gotta work on your smoothness. Cause you are _embarrassing_ ,’ Desmond chimed in.

‘He’s never done that before.’

‘You tell him he could do that?’

‘I didn’t say he couldn’t?’ I was confused.

‘I can’t believe you’re my brother. Your lack of flirting ability is going to kill me if I have to watch Jacob do this in person when I get here.’

‘Hey Desmond?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Fuck you.’

Desmond’s psionic voice howled with laughter in my head as I went around the corner to Altair and Cain. ‘Dad’s gonna have a heart attack when he finds out you learned to swear,’ Desmond said, he sounded happy, proud even. That made me smile a little.

“Ah, Thomas, finally,” Cain said. “Come over here and let’s have a look at you,” he beckoned me.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I said but complied.

“Hopefully not but we’re just going to _make sure_ ,” Cain assured me.

“I really hate using these now that I know what they are,” Altair said and picked up a vessel from a counter along the side. It was a sphere, an Apple, Desmond called it.

“Yes well if I recall Desmond plans on destroying all of them when this is over so we won’t be using them much longer,” Cain said. Altair nodded a little. “Now Thomas, clear your mind.”

“He’s not great at that,” Altair said.

“Give the kid some credit, Altair. He’s very young.”

“Don’t act so interested Cain, it’s unnerving.”

“Ah, but so I am,” Cain’s smile was broad, terrible. It didn’t reassure me at all. He looked at me. “I know Desmond taught you to meditate. Clear your mind. It’s less painful this way.”

I looked at Altair and swallowed. ‘You’ll be fine,’ Desmond assured him. ‘They want to help you. Cain is just a weirdo.’ I nodded a little and closed my eyes.

I did what Desmond taught me to clear my mind. There was a bright light even against the back of my eyelids. I didn’t feel or know what they were doing, if anything. It took a bit of time. Not too long but not insignificant. Then the light dimmed. I opened my eyes and didn’t recognize either of them. “How you feel, kid?” the taller one asked.

“Who’re you?” I asked.

“I _told_ you you were too hard on it,” the shorter one said. Then he winced and closed one eye like he had a great pain in his head. “Uhg and- Des stop we didn’t do anything bad, chill out.”

“Do you know who you are?” Cain asked me.

I blinked at him. “Yeah, Tommy Miles,” I said. “Who are you?”

“See, now stop yelling at me,” the short one said. He muttered to himself something.

“You don’t know who we are?” Cain asked me.

“I didn’t? Why wouldn’t I know who you are? You’re Cain,” I pointed at him, “And you’re Altair.”

“Hmm. Odd,” Cain said, cocking his head a little. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes. These are weird questions,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t know who we were a moment ago. Did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget. I always knew who you were.”

“Thomas,” Cain said, patient, but a bit annoyed, “you asked us who we were.”

“I did?”

“Do you not remember that?”

“I just remember you asking me if I knew who you were.”

“Huh,” Cain looked thoughtful. “Probably just a bit of mental delay, nothing to worry about. You were just fine when we finished up with you.”

“That’s… good?”

“Yes. You’re fine. Make sure you tell someone if you see any other phantoms.”

“Yeah, sure. Can I go?”

“Yes,” Cain nodded. “You alright, Abel?” Cain asked Altair.

“He’s having a hissy fit,” Altair said, both hands pressed against his forehead.

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

“Which one?”

They both looked at me. “You only have one of them, Thomas,” Cain said.

I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Right. Brain kinda scrambled.”

“Hey guys, you done with him?” Jacob popped his head in.

“Yes,” Cain said.

“Great. I’m stealing him then,” Jacob beckoned to me and I gladly went. “They haven’t set up a mess yet but I saw where they put the rations. Let get you some before someone notices,” Jacob said as we walked.

“Jacob,” I said. He ‘hmmed’ at me. “How many siblings do I have?”

Jacob looked at me with confusion. “Just one, Tom,” he said. “Why?”

“Nothing,” I said and to make him not ask me more questions I grabbed his hand. Jacob was too happy after that to ask further and I was glad when he took me to get some food. I’d just ask Desmond when he came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story or excited about the update you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I love this story!' I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.
> 
> ALSO you should def visit my writing blog shotgunsandstars on tumblr for previews, whining, and other sad (and sometimes gay) shit.


	89. Erne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how many chapters are left. But it isn't a lot. Not more than 10? Maybe? I hope so. I'm probably gonna CRY once I'm done. Cause Desmond will have finally gotten the hero story he always deserved and I finally finished this MONSTER after... 6? years.

There was not a small group waiting outside the numia when Desmond opened the door. "Hey guys," he grinned at them. "Ready to fuck some shit up?"

"Yeah once you get more than three hours of sleep," Jake said. Could always count on him to say what Desmond needed to hear and not what he wanted to hear.

"Can't you be serious for ten minutes, Desmond?" Od sighed at him as he jumped down the last three steps and onto the ground in front of the group.

"Sirius? Didn't he die in the fifth Harry Potter book?" Only Jake and Lucy laughed. Everyone else either sighed at him or looked confused.

"I will take that as a 'no'," Od said. Like most of the time Od sounded like he struggled to understand Desmond and this wasn't any different.

"Well, now that you're here we can actually do something," Altair said to distract from all this.

"Yeah. But first; I'm starving. There was no food on this dang numia. Baldur what the hell?" Desmond complained at her.

"There was food," Baldur said.

" _He didn't like our protein wafers_ ," the pilot said in the Ilythian tongue, finally following Desmond out of the numia. " _Do all humans do is complain about food? Or just this one?_ "

 _"Hey, this fiver is saving the world, have a little respect_ ," Desmond huffed.

 _"I lost that when we made landfall_ ," they said. Desmond grinned at them. They did not smile back. Desmond admitted he hadn't made the  _best_  of friends with this Ilythian as he could have but really could you blame him? He'd just gone half way around the world and been  _dying_  of boredom with a pilot who would barely talk to him because he was a  _stadalla_ and Ando and terrified them. He'd broken down the fear by annoying the shit out of them until they'd started swearing at him and throwing food at him. After that Desmond had left them alone. Desmond was actually rather fond of them now but he knew the feeling was not mutual. He knew they'd complain to Od or Baldur and his poor sengars would have to explain that Desmond's actions meant that the human liked them.

"Anyway, food. Please. You can fill me in on everything while I eat," he said.

"You can't wait?" Altair asked.

"I mean you might actually be an android in disguise but  _I'm_  not."

Altair groaned, "Having access to telepathy made you so much more annoying," he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and eyes in one fluid expression of frustration.

"Which is squarely your fault," Cain needled him a little.

"So sorry," Altair glared at him.

"On the bright side he can't do it now," Ezio said.

"On the downside, Big Eagle can. Just what we all need," Hawk said dryly. "A miserable guy like Big Eagle able to read our minds." Altair gave him an annoyed glare but it just bounced off Hawk's cool exterior. "C'mon Little Bird," he motioned to Desmond and he happily followed. Everyone else fell in step behind him except Lucy who came right up next to him.

"Hey," he gave her a smile.

"Hey. Miss me?"

"Why would I do that?" she asked him innocently. "You were gone only like a day. I'm a big girl Desmond."

"Right for the heart," he said in a dramatic voice only loud enough for her to hear. "How's everyone doing?"

"Illusionists are… managing… sort of. They can only manage the illusion for a few hours before they need a break. I only have them do it when we see a patrol coming through. Otherwise it's too taxing and they would be useless to us," she said and Desmond nodded as she talked.

They'd made it to what was roughly the command center. A big oval plastic building with a domed roof and covered in lights to see in the darkness of the cave. It was cool inside and Desmond didn't even want to begin to learn how that was possible. Inside there was a ring of chairs around a ring table and in the middle was a projector similar to the one in Demeter. That took up a small part of the temporary building and the rest was dedicated to banks of computers and communication arrays. They were staffed low now but Desmond knew they would be staffed to the gills once things were going down.

Desmond was made to sit in one of the chairs in the ring. "Ezio went to go get you some food," Altair said.

"Awesome. So. What I miss while I was in the air?" While flying from the atoll to Atlantis communication had been non existence even with Mercury. Both groups were out of his easy sphere of influence where he was stuck in Demeter and he was busy using as much of Demeter's processing power as he could to build a signal blocker for the Adjatev communications so they'd be stuck unable to talk during the attack. "I see everyone is snug and comfortable in here." Several of the big group sat but some, like Zoyra and Inti, stayed standing. Lucy sat away from him. He didn't mind.

"Wouldn't use the second word but yes, we are in a serviceable way," Od said. "All of our troops are accounted for."

"The Hedren are ready to fight," Baldur said. "Eager, even."

"But that isn't an excuse to rush into things," Od said quickly. "We have a perfect element of surprise. They will never see us coming if we time this right."

"The time is right, now," Baldur said. "They are still dealing with the numia we crashed into their forward base. They're distracted. Now is a good time."

"Girl, your blood lust is admirable, but now is not the time to make quick, or rash, decisions," Cain said but was looking at Desmond while he said that. He was saying it for Desmond's benefit, not hers.

"How long can we stay here before our supplies run out?" Desmond asked.

"A few days, maybe," Hawk said. "If we ration we could pull it out for five days but no one will like it. Three days max."

"What are you thinking?" Jake asked.

"Let them clean up the numia. They'll fall into a false sense of security when our attack doesn't come right away. They'll think we fucked up. Then, when they've relaxed, strike," Desmond said.

"Good plan. Will take too long," Cain said. Od nodded.

"The Adjatevs are paranoid. It will take them weeks to relax after that attack on their forward camp. By then the harvest will have been well and truly over and there will be many numia and ships and patrols out looking for us, for Demeter, for you," Od said seriously.

Desmond nodded and perked up when Ezio showed up with a magical plate of food. It was real food too. Barely. "Thanks," he told Ezio who smiled at him and ruffled his short hair. "What else has been going on?" he asked as he started eating.

"Nerves," Altair said. He was standing behind a chair, leaning on it with both arms. "Our troops know it'll be soon. They're nervous, anxious. There's been a bit of fighting. Not across species but amid their own. Humans don't do well when having to hold onto their nerves and keep cool like this for so long. Proeathans don't do well underground."

"Huh? Well, maybe you shouldn't have built your dooms day bunkers like three miles under the Earth's crust huh?" Desmond asked Od sarcastically.

"The Ilythians did not. The Adjatevs invited us to join them in cryo. So we did," Od said. Desmond rolled his eyes. "It was that, or die." Everyone looked at Od except the other proeathans. Od bared his teeth a little. "Ilythians did not keep slaves. We were innocent in your genocide."

"Maybe, but you were complacent," Ezio said. "Just as bad."

"Ancient history," Cain said. "No use having an argument about it."

"Large words from a  _Drell_ ," Od growled.

"Hey now; half Drell," Cain said with a shit eating smirking. All the humans but Desmond looked confused. Desmond said nothing. He saw Altair thinking very hard about it. "We need to plan our strike to maintain our element of surprise and catch the Adjatevs with their proverbial pants down."

"Well, I'm all ears. Any of you actual military people got any ideas?" Desmond asked. No one was outright forthcoming. "You're telling me that in like the several thousand combined years of military thinking in this room  _none_  of you have an idea?" he was fake scandalized.

"It's kinda a shit situation all around," Altair said.

"We could do what we did at the atoll," Lucy said. "Make a storm, make 'em nervous."

"It was very effective against the soldiers at the atoll," Baldur nodded.

"I don't know if I got another thing like that in me, not without someone seriously amping me," Desmond sighed. "Breaking an island in half is a lot more exhausting than you'd think and there are a lot more soldiers to drop here than at the atoll. I could whip up another storm. Pretty easily too."

"The rain could give us cover to move above ground," Altair said. "Proeathans don't see well in the rain. Vision gets all blurred unless they go into their sixth sense. Rain would also make them nervous enough to bunker down."

"You forget you have proeathans on  _your_  side as well," Od said. "Our people are just as susceptible to superstition as the Adjatevs."

"Well, tell them to get over it," Ezio said with a shrug. Od narrowed his eyes at Ezio. "Or suck it up. Either way, they're fighting with humans and going to be living with humans. They're gonna have to get used to things that make them uncomfortable." Od gave Ezio probably the most polite killing glare Desmond had ever seen. Nothing about Od's face moved. Just his eyes became perfect yellow slits of anger. Ezio looked unmoved.

"They will do as need doing," Baldur said and Od gave her a look too. She gave him stern look back. Keeping eye contact with her fellow sengar she said, "We joined the Hedren to fight for what we believe. A little rain won't stop us from what we think is right. Right?"

Od backed down from the challenge. He leaned back in his chair with a stony expression but said nothing. Desmond had taken the time to eat the rest of the food Ezio had brought him. It had been shit but had also been the best food he'd had in days so he wasn't complaining. He hadn't eaten in nearly three days except for those cracks Altair made him eat on the way to the atoll. "So we have the start of a plan. I make us a storm," Desmond said. "What else? We just blitz them?"

"That might be our best option given the situation," Altair said."If we strike them hard and fast and from multiple sides, they'll never see us coming or have time to react."

"Do those mechs work in the rain?" Lucy asked.

"You saw they did," Baldur said. "But not  _well_. Storks can work in some rain but will short circuit from the rain. All their circuitry is exposed for the most part."

"That was-

"I mean they built  _mechs_ , I don't think you can say shit about that," Jake said to counter Ezio's snide remark.

"So plan's the same then," Desmond sighed. He'd really hoped someone would come up with something  _better_  while he'd been away. "Well. No time like the present to start. What time is it now?"

"It's ten am," Altair said.

"Right. Well, I'm gonna sleep a bit before we start," Desmond said before anyone even thought of telling him. He knew everyone here would insist he rested before they did anything. "Should I bring in the storm system before, or after?" he asked Od.

"After. Just before we strike. If it lasts they'll just think it's a normal storm and Atlantis has a history of storms and hurricanes," Od said. Desmond nodded.

"Great. Make sure everyone is equipped for fighting in the dark. It might be the mid Atlantic but it still gets darker early this time of year. We all know what to do?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Now I'm gonna go attempt to relax for a few hours," he got up. "Someone wanna show me where to go?" Lucy got up as well to volunteer.

"Lucy, stay, we need to talk," Od said. She sat back down. "Inti will show you," Od said, motioning to Inti behind him. Inti nodded and Desmond walked around the table to him.

" _Stadalla_ ," Inti said respectfully, " _Follow me_ ," Inti only spoke in Ilythian now. He'd spoken English before but admittedly was not great at it. Thankfully Desmond could speak in Inti's tongue as well. Desmond nodded and Inti led him out of the command dome. He expected a barracks but instead Inti led him to another place where they had full running water. Desmond's eyes followed a pipe from the building before they entered and it went out past the opening of the cave. Inti showed him inside and it was a shower building.

" _Shower with salt water, that's a new one_ ," Desmond said.

 _"We desalinate and purify it before it is used by those who use the water_ ," Inti said.

" _Seems a bit over the top for a temporary place like this."_

 _"Hygiene is important to both of our species. It was deemed necessary to keep morale up_." Desmond grinned at that a little.  _"I will return with some proper clothing for you while you bathe_ ," and then Inti walked off. Desmond chuckled and he finally,  _finally_ , after days of wearing it, took off his combat armor. He was one giant prune from it and he smelled like an armpit.

He found a shower and quickly got under it to wash off. He stood under the water after he'd washed off the smell of sweat and felt his mind running but he couldn't hear his own thoughts. It was too many thoughts. Too much to think about. He just muted them. That would wait. They would wait. He knew he wouldn't get to sleep. His mind was working too much. But he'd rest for a while.

He sensed Inti return and turned off the shower. He did want to try something and now was a perfect time to do it. He used his pyromancy to super heat the air and flash evaporate all the water off of him. It worked but ended up making his hair get all dry and chaotic a little from the heat. Overall, it was a success. He stepped out of the shower and right into Inti's view. The big proeathan froze and Desmond chuckled when Inti glanced him up and down and then darkness stained his brown skin and he turned around. " _Your clothes, stadalla_ ," he said, offering them behind him.

"Heh, thanks," Desmond took them. He was honestly surprised by the reaction but it was funny all the same. He assumed proeathans wouldn't even care about a naked human. Not to mention some of the cultures in Apollo walked around nearly naked. He pulled on the clothes, black with long sleeves, no gloves or a hood but that was okay. " _So where am I sleeping_?" he asked.

Inti glanced behind him to make sure Desmond was indeed dressed then motioned for Desmond to follow. Now he took Desmond to a sort of barracks. It was several tall plastic buildings with shelves in them. It took Desmond a moment to realize that those shelves were bunks which were little cubbies for sleeping and not much else. Inti took Desmond past them and into one of the stacks. Inside each one was two smallish rooms, each with beds and room to stand up and move around. The spaces weren't  _that_  much bigger than the bunks but they could be stood up in. " _For officers_?" Desmond asked.

 _"Yes,_ " Inti said. " _We only use these modules for short term. Brings down morale to have to spend nights in a coffin. If this was going to last any more than a few days we would have put up something more permanent_." Desmond nodded. " _You may rest in here._ "

" _Okay. Thanks, Inti_ ," he said and Inti nodded. Then he turned and left leaving Desmond alone.

Desmond went over to the bed and laid down on it. It wasn't the most comfortable thing but he didn't expect it to be. As he lay there he had nothing to distract him from his own thoughts and boy did he have a lot of them. Mostly it was worry. Worry that he was really about to get  _all_  of these people killed. All of his friends and family and all these innocent people were going to die for nothing. He couldn't run away from it. He just had to do it. He was going to shrink humans' already small population by a few thousand because of this when they already only numbered a few thousand. Of free humans at least. Ones who remembered what it was like when they ruled the entire world and weren't just enslaved children bred to be the slaves of this new proeathan ruled world. It was all his fault. It didn't take him long before he developed a headache from all his worry. He perked up a little when there was a knock on his door. "Yeah!" he called.

The door opened a little and Lucy peered inside. "I thought you were sleeping," she said.

"I'll sleep when this is over, maybe," Desmond said.

"Can I come in?" she asked. He nodded and she came inside and sat on the cot. Desmond sat up.

"What did Od need you for?" he asked.

"Wanted to talk about the angels. What we should prepare for."

"Oh. Shouldn't you be with them?"

She didn't answer his question. Instead, she said, "How are you doing?"

"How do you think?"

"Terribly?"

"Yeah," he said and leaned forward so his head rested against her shoulder with a sigh. She reached over and grabbed his hand, holding it in both of her own.

"You're almost done. We're almost done," she said in a soft, reassuring, voice.

"Yeah."

"You know this isn't the end, right?"

"Hmm?"

"After what happens at Atlantis, after you walk into the Unnamed, that's when it starts. From what the proeathans have been stressed out about for years is that  _that_  is when everything can change."

"Mmm. So no rest for the wicked, huh?"

"No."

"You'll help me?"

"As long as I can," she promised and lifted his hand up to kiss his fingers. He squeezed her hand. "I'm a thing not meant to last."

Desmond moved his head on her shoulder to look at her. "If anyone should, it should be you," he said. She smiled gently at him. "I keep thinking how I'm going to get everyone killed. They're all just a distraction and I'm going to get them all  _killed_  just so I can step into that stupid arch."

"They chose this," she reminded him. "You didn't."

"I chose to let them come," Desmond said. "Fuck." He thumped back onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know if I should have made everyone stay in Demeter."

"They  _chose_  this, Desmond. This is what they wanted. This is what they trained for. Don't think you can just take away their choices."

He groaned. "I know but it'd make me feel better."

"Tough shit."

"How's my brother?"

"Fine now that you're out of his head. What you did wasn't necessary."

"Yeah. You yelled at me for this already, I heard it. Don't need a replay," Desmond said. He did feel bad about it. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't," he promised. "He seeing shit?"

"Hmm?"

"Sounded like he was Bleeding a little. Altair said he was a little leaky but he and Cain fixed it. Dunno if he's still seeing shit anyway."

"Hera did say she didn't know if she'd be able to eradicate Eve completely," Lucy reminded him. "He's only been like this barely three weeks. This could just be how he is, like Clay. Jake said he hasn't complained about ghosts."

"Yeah but he's me and stubborn and wants to make sure no one worries about him," Desmond said.

"You'll have to ask him," she said and he nodded. They didn't speak for a bit and Desmond looked up at the ceiling.

"You going to leave?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

Desmond looked at her. "Will you stay? Who knows, I might actually get some sleep if you do."

"I'm not a miracle worker," she teased him. "But I will." She took off her shoes and Desmond squeezed himself into one side of the bed so she could lay down next to him. He wrapped his arms around her. She smelled nice. Clean. Generic soap smell from the showers outside. "You need to close your eyes, Desmond."

"But then how will I enjoy the view?" That made her laugh.

She leaned up and kissed both of his eyes closed. "Try and get some sleep. I'll be here."

"I promise nothing," he said but kept his eyes closed.

He didn't sleep. But he did rest. Lucy stayed with him for some hours before she got up, saying she needed to go to her angels. Desmond didn't begrudge her that. That left Desmond alone with his own thoughts and he laid there trying to blank his thoughts. It didn't work. He just kept thinking about it. Thinking about what he was going to do. What he was  _doing_. How a stupid kid from a cult in the middle of South Dakota without a real identity had ended up the destroyer and savior of the entire fucking  _world_. He was on his back staring up at the ceiling. Just staring. Was he doing the right thing? What if he wasn't? What if he was making a terrible mistake? What if this was all part of the Adjatevs plan. They'd anticipated his existence, they'd known he'd be easy to control, what if this was all some grand plan?

Desmond squeezed his eyes closed.  _No_. The word wasn't his mind voice. It was Altair's. Not actual Altair. But that soft little voice he barely ever heard anymore from a Bleeding that could never really be fixed.  _Not a trap_. That was Ezio's mind voice. Shit. Now he was hearing their voices again. He hadn't done that since before Altair had found him in Germany and taken him away.  _It's a good plan_ , the voice of the man Altair had been said in his head to him.  _And this isn't the worst thing you've been through_ , Ezio's reminded him. Yeah. He supposed that was true. He could actually be Bleeding again. Actually dying again where every waking moment was like he was spending it in three different times and disassociated constantly because he couldn't even figure out where or when his body was or why he was both tall and short and lithe and broad and three people at once. Or he could be in the Animus again. He could be dying unending.

For a moment Desmond thought he was actually Bleeding again. "You okay, kid?" Altair asked him. He was standing above him with Ezio, looking down at him.

Desmond blinked and time seemed relevant again. "What time is it?"

"Six pm. Time to get going."

"You alright?" Ezio asked.

Desmond blinked, rubbed his eyes. "Think so. Where's Hawk?" he asked looking at them with one eye.

"Not here. He's breathing down comm's necks about making sure they know what to do," Altair said.

Desmond sat up slowly. "Oh… what are you doing here?" he was confused. The two of them looked at each other, at Desmond, then shrugged in unison. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Felt like we should come get you, that's all," Ezio said. "You sleep?"

"Not really," Desmond swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stretched, his spine cracking delightfully and ended up rubbing his head. "Just… weird."

"What?" Altair asked.

"I wasn't Bleeding. I  _wasn't_ ," he said specifically so they wouldn't worry. Didn't help. They both looked nervous. "I just heard your voices. It was weird. That hasn't happened really since before I met you old assholes and I was  _really_  fucked up and basically dead."

"You feel alright?" Ezio asked.

"No. But I'm not dead yet," Desmond looked away rubbing the back and side of his head. He stopped and looked up at them. "Feel better than usual at least. Not exhausted so that's a plus."

"Ready to go then?" Altair asked.

Desmond sighed deeply. Fear bubbled up in him. "You think this is a trap?"

"What's a trap?"

"Atlantis, this whole thing with the Adjatevs," Desmond said.

"No," Altair said, shaking his head.

"Isn't a trap," Ezio assured him.

"It's not that bad of a plan either. Seen way worse. Led way worse ones," Altair said thoughtfully.

"You've thought up with way worse ones," Ezio needled Altair in the ribs a little making Altair glare at him. As usual, it didn't effect Ezio in the slightest. "We've been through worse," Ezio said.

"You figure?"

"Well of course. You missed it too." Desmond just gave Ezio a confused look. "You didn't have to live with Altair the five years the proeathans had you. I'm like five hundred years old give or take and those five years were literally the worst of my entire life, including the World Wars." Altair's glare just grew darker but Ezio's smile didn't even flinch. Desmond found himself smiling a little too.

Desmond got up from the bed. "Okay," he nodded. The three of them left the little room and they led Desmond to where he could get outfitted. As they walked Ezio threw an arm up around his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story or excited about the update you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I love this story!' I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.
> 
> ALSO you should def visit my [writing blog](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com) for previews, whining, and other gay shit.


	90. Mammantus

After making sure his gear was set for the coming hours Desmond went and found his family. Tommy and Andrew were having dinner. He sat next to Tommy who smiled and hugged him when he saw Desmond. "We heard everyone's moving out in an hour or so," Andrew said.

"Yeah," Desmond nodded. "Once I get us some storm cover."

"You have dinner yet?" Andrew asked.

"Not really hungry."

"You should eat something, Desmond."

Desmond felt a flash of anger for a second before remembering Altair had said the same thing to him not even a few days ago. He hadn't gotten mad at Altair. It was unfair to get mad at Andrew for showing the same level of concern. He sighed and took something off Tommy's plate. "Hey! That's my dinner," Tommy protested.

"Yeah well you can share," Desmond said giving him a look. He ate a bit more before saying. "I just wanted to come by before I left. I… wanted to say goodbye."

"Don't say it like that," Tommy said fearfully.

"Sorry. I know. But it's a war. People die.  _I_  could die. That's why you two aren't coming. I don't want you to die too." Desmond looked at Andrew. "You're needed."

"Hardly. No one gives a shit about me if you're not riding along in my brain," Tommy said.

"Well think about how our dad feels. Nobody  _really_  gives a shit about him-

"Desmond, don't be rude," Andrew scolded. Desmond just gave him an annoying grin.

"You've met me, right? I am rude by default."

"I'm aware," Andrew sighed.

"Anyway, Tommy I need your help."

"Not the kinda help you needed me for last time?" Tommy asked nervously.

"No… yes? No? Not exactly like it but I do need your help as a psychic. I'm making another storm."

"Oh. Well, what do you need my help for? You did it fine by yourself the other day?"

"Because I've been running heavy on the mind stuff lately and I'm about to go do some more heavy mind stuff and any way to lighten the load would be helpful," Desmond said.

"Sure. I can do that," Tommy nodded.

"Great. I'll meet you up at the front of the cave. I just need to talk to dad real quick."

"Oh, you mean right now," Tommy said and Desmond nodded. Tommy stuffed the last bit of dinner into his mouth, wiped his hands and got up.

"I'll be right there," Desmond promised as Tommy walked away. He watched him go then turned back to Andrew.

"What is it, Desmond?" he asked.

"Don't fuck this up," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?"

"Tommy. Don't fuck him up. I don't know if I'm coming back."

"You don't need to tell me-

"Don't I? You're telling me I don't need to tell Mr. Dad of the Year to actually be a good dad?" Desmond asked him. Andrew sighed a little. "Don't sigh at me old man. This is serious," Desmond hissed. "One of us is dead, I hate you, least you can do is not fuck it up a  _third_  time. He doesn't even know about how badly you screwed me and Duncan up." That hurt Andrew especially hard. "If you abandon him like you abandoned us I swear I will come back as some psychic force ghost and haunt your ass."

"Desmond, you don't need to remind me. I want it to work out as well," Andrew said. "I've been good for him."

"First time for everything for you then, huh?"

"I'm not your enemy, you know."

"Just because we're in an armistice for Tommy doesn't mean I actually like you," Desmond said. "I don't forgive you." Andrew sighed and rubbed his head tiredly. "What now?" Desmond growled.

"Just remembered, that was the last thing your mother said to me too," he sighed. He shook his head a little.

"Before you sent her away?"

"No. After. She said it with a smile too." Desmond didn't say anything. "I know you see it as cruel and unnecessary but she was happier in that home. She wasn't well and it helped her. I visited her sometimes. She never spoke to me except the last time I went, about four months before the proeathans came."

"What'd she say?" Desmond asked.

"You fucked this up real good, Andy. I know you're here for your penance and I don't forgive you. Fuck you," he sighed again. Desmond smirked a little. "Don't be an ass, Desmond."

"I will if I want. She had the right idea."

"I am doing my best here, alright," Andrew said. "I've been through shit too. You aren't special in this Desmond. All Assassins have been through shit."

"Boo fucking hoo," Desmond said. "You were my dad and were so shitty I ran away from home and then were okay with me dying. Didn't even give a shit if I died if it worked for you."

"That's not true."

"You said the Animus was a worthy death."

"Better to die trying to help countless people in peace than like a scared rat caught in Templar gunfire when they opened fire on your hideout with machine guns. Or walking across the street and randomly finding a sniper bullet with the side of your head. Or getting blown the hell up in a raid. Or taken by Templars and  _actually_  tortured you. Instead, you could have died in your sleep. That's not a death many Assassins get. Despite what you believe I am  _not_  a monster and I  _do_  love you even if you don't want to hear it. I cared more about you than Kaley sure as shit ever did."

"Good way of showing it, dad," Desmond sneered at him.

Andrew looked away but looked an inch away from snapping. He closed his eyes and looked like he was reminding himself something. Then he opened his eyes and looked at him. "I am sorry, Desmond. I was a bad father. I don't expect your forgiveness. I'd like it but I know you won't give it. But I'm not here to screw Tommy up. I want him to be alive and happy just like you."

Desmond was honestly surprised. He'd never really heard a proper apology from his father before. Part of him said that he needed to be a bigger man and forgive Andrew. But the right part of him said that he didn't have to forgive his abuser just because they asked for it and said they loved him. "I still don't forgive you," he said.

"I wish you would but I can't force you to do anything. Never have been. Good luck out there. Me and Tommy will be rooting for you and waiting for you to come home."

Desmond just nodded and got up from the table. He refused to think about what had just really transpired and walked to the mouth of the cave. Tommy was there, waiting for him. "Hey, sorry that took so long," Desmond said.

"It's okay. What are we doing here? Can't we do it inside?"

"We could but I find it easier to do stuff like this when you have sky access. C'mon," and he grabbed Tommy's hand and pulled him closer to the entrance. Then his eyes blacked out and he lifted himself up into the air. He looked down at Tommy who was staring up at him, wide eyed. "Let's go."

"I can't do that," Tommy said.

Desmond grinned. "Tommy, you made a forcefield that stopped a giant laser and then hollowed out this  _entire_  cave. Lifting up a hundred or so pounds with your mind is a cakewalk."

"I could only do that with your help," Tommy protested.

"I just directed and bolstered you. That was all you buddy. Now c'mon, let's give my men something to look at." Tommy looked unsure but blacked his eyes out. Unlike Desmond, he didn't just rise up from the ground. Rather he made himself force field steps and climbed up to Desmond's side. "Good job," Desmond said. He dragged Tommy out of the cave and out over the water and under the sky.

Tommy looked up at the sunset like he'd never seen one. Desmond wasn't sure he had. His only memories were of being underground in Demeter and then in a numia, hiding or asleep most of the time. "Wow," he said softly.

Desmond smiled. "Yeah. Nothing quite like a sunset over the water in the south." The sky was clear but streaked with beautiful pinks and yellows. It was still blue above their heads and the clouds were lavender and the color of a perfectly ripe peach. It was picturesque. It would add to the drama of what was about to happen.

"Does it always look like this?" Tommy asked and Desmond grabbed both of his hands.

"Yeah. More or less," Desmond said. "Now we're going to cover it up with some storm clouds."

"How?"

"Just do what I do," Desmond said.

"Easier said than done," Tommy said.

"It's okay. I know you can do it. I can do it, you can do it." Tommy nodded.

Desmond closed his eyes and started dropping the pressure. The air grew heavy and hot and he felt Tommy figuring it out. Tommy did it differently than Desmond did. Desmond hollowed out the air to create a bowl, basically digging a hole through the sky. Tommy just twisted the air up out of the area around them and flung it into the up into the upper atmosphere. Got the same result of a low-pressure system building and building and dragging in huge clouds from the horizon that had built up over the Florida peninsula every day and made its way out to sea. The pink and yellow sky turned green and gunmetal gray. The clouds swallowed up the sky as they raced out across Atlantis as fast as the wind could take them. Desmond and Tommy were still illuminated on one side by the setting sun, stubbornly refusing to be hidden behind the clouds and leaving them backlit to the cave.

The sun was finally swallowed up by the clouds and the horizon as the wind whipped at Desmond and Tommy. Around and through their hair and tugging at their clothes. Desmond held onto Tommy's arms so he wouldn't get worried about being blown away as he wobbled on his forcefield. Because he was holding himself in the air Desmond didn't move but Tommy was standing on hard air. It wasn't totally dark out despite the clouds and the sun having set. "Good job," Desmond said and they both looked up as rain started falling on them. He beamed when Tommy put a force field up above them to act as an umbrella to keep them dry.

"You were right. I could do it," Tommy said and Desmond looked out across the dark horizon.

"I knew you could. Now let's get you back inside."

Tommy followed Desmond back down to the opening of the cave. They stepped down onto the rock and Tommy grabbed his arm before he could keep sinking. "Desmond, let me come too."

"Absolutely not," Desmond said. He glanced down. What he'd wanted had happened. People had stopped and watched the two of them perform what was basically a miracle. "You're staying here where it's safe."

"Dad says nowhere is safe during a war," Tommy said.

"Well, I don't want you in unnecessary danger. You aren't coming."

Tommy sighed a little. "Okay, he said softly.

"Keep your eyes up," Desmond said and Tommy finally followed Desmond down onto the ground.

Desmond looked out amid the watchers once they were on the ground. They were human and proeathans alike and stared at the two of them in fear and awe. He grinned at them. One of his not so nice grins. "Wave to the people, bro," Desmond said softly and only then did Tommy notice the people looking at them. He waved awkwardly, hardly lifting his arm. Then like the weather itself was helping Desmond there was a flash of lightning behind them. The thunder rolled almost immediately and Desmond bent light around him and Tommy, turning them invisible in time with the thunder peel. Desmond reached out and found Tommy's arm and pulled him away from the mouth of the cave.

Desmond led Tommy back towards the eating area where there were fewer people. Andrew was gone. Once he felt like no one was really paying them any attention Desmond stopped bending light and the two of them reappeared. "What was that for?" Tommy asked.

"Making a point," Desmond said.

"Oh," Tommy frowned. "About what?"

"One: don't fuck with me. Two: the Adjatevs are about to be fucked."

"Oh," Desmond wasn't sure Tommy understood. "Desmond."

"Yeah?"

"You have to go now, right?"

"Yeah. I need to get armored up."

"Will you come back?"

"I'll try."

Tommy's frown deepened. "Can I ask you about something, before you go?"

"Sure."

"I'm having weird dreams."

"Like what?"

"Well. In some of them in a woman. I can't understand myself when I talk and I'm sad a lot. There are always lots of angels around but they don't look like anyone I know."

Desmond frowned now. That sounded like Eve. Shit. "Anything else?"

"I'm in a house and I think… I think it's  _our_  house. Like the one before the end of the world. It's always empty except me and an older boy who looks a lot like dad." Desmond did his best to not react. Eve, he'd expected but was Tommy Bleeding  _him_  too? That wasn't good. "He talks to me sometimes but it's hard to hear him. At first I thought he was just how my brain pictured you in my dreams since he takes care of me like you do but they don't feel like just dreams. You're never in the dream. Just me. Or I think it's me. It doesn't feel like me. I had them a few times already but last night all I did was dream like that."

"Did it scare you?" Desmond asked him.

"No."

"Are you seeing things while awake?"

"I saw those two guys," Tommy said. "But nothing since then." Desmond nodded slowly. "Why? Do you know what this is? Is it bad?"

"I don't think so. I think you're safe. It is a cause for concern but I think you'll be safe for a few days until I've dealt with the Adjatevs."

"Oh… what is it?"

Desmond sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. He'd hoped he'd never had to have this talk with Tommy. He pulled his hands off his face. "Tommy, it's… not something I can get into right now. It's not just nothing and you deserve to know." He couldn't tell Tommy he was a clone. He absolutely couldn't. But how was he supposed to bring in a brother when he and Andrew had agreed it was just him and Tommy? He couldn't just act like Tommy wasn't experiencing his memories of Duncan and it was impossible to explain to the away fully when he  _remembered._  For a second he wished he was powerful enough to just change Tommy's memory as he was so he would remember. The memories would be fake but it was better than this void and slowly remembering Desmond's shitty life. "I just can't right now."

"Will you come back and tell me?" Tommy asked.

Desmond nodded a little. "I will. If I make it I will. If I don't dad will tell you, I promise," he said.

Tommy held out his hand, extending his pinky. "Jacob said you can't break pinky promises," he said seriously.

Desmond smiled a little and pinky promised him. He was glad Jake had taught Tommy something like that. It was something you didn't think about when trying to teach someone from the ground up. "I'll try and come back. Wish me luck."

Desmond started when Tommy hugged him. "Luck is a proeathan thing. You don't need it. You'll succeed, I know you will." He hugged Desmond tightly and Desmond hugged him back. "I know you wouldn't leave me unless you couldn't help it and tries everything to come back." Desmond felt guilt in his stomach.


	91. A Front

The numia could get them as close as half a mile to the Unnamed. After that Adjatev short range anti-air artillery was just too dangerous to try for a closer insertion. In Desmond’s head half a mile wasn’t that far. He could run it in a couple minutes. As their numia came in for a landing he saw that this was going to be the worst half mile of his life. Dozens, if not hundreds, of proeathans stood between him and the Unnamed which he could see peeking up over the top of the mostly toppled buildings. The numia set them down in the middle of the dark rain with as close a straight shot to the Unnamed as humanly possible and the back opened for them. Over the peels of thunder they could hear gunfire in the distance.

“Well, this is appropriately apocalyptic,” Jake said. No Jacob tonight. He’d be a liability. “Anyone got any last words?”

Everyone gave Jake a stern look but he just grinned humorlessly back at them. “Yeah, I got some,” Desmond said and there were not a few surprised faces. Everyone looked at Desmond. He looked across them. Altair, Ezio, Hawk, and Jake. They were the only ones in this numia. He’d sent the others to help with the other front lines. They all wore the same proeathan made battle armor, augmented to fit their smaller bodies and allow for the dexterous moving required by Master Assassins of their caliber. Outside lightning flickered, briefly illuminating the street.

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense here,” Jake said.

Desmond grinned a little. “I love you guys. Now, let’s go save the fucking world,” and he turned and walked out of the numia. As he did he parted the rain around him and heard the others follow in his wake. As soon as they were off the numia lifted up and zipped away into the stormy, night, sky. They were alone in Atlantis and the old, dead, city rose around them like a tomb.

Altair moved up ahead of him, taking point and they made it to the end of the block when they found their first group of Adjatevs bunkered down behind some sand bags. They saw them and opened fire immediately. Sucked to be them really. They got off a short round before Desmond just held the bullets in their muzzles and the four Assassins swarmed forward. The little sentry station was dead in moments. Desmond frowned a little but shook his head. No. He couldn’t think about it. If they hadn’t been killed they would have gladly murdered him and tried to murder the others.

“We need to go down a few blocks,” Hawk said, looking up. One of the buildings had collapsed into the street, blocking their path. Rain splattered off his helmet and he turned to the others. The air around him glowed golden as he held his Apple and looked around. “That way. That’s the easier path.

“Couldn’t we go over?” Jake asked.

“We’d be sitting ducks at the top until we could get down,” Ezio said. “Better to go around.”

Jake nodded and they went. The buildings around were still somewhat standing but they sagged like still full of water and were covered in dead plant mattered and barnacles. The city had been under the ocean for tens of thousands of years. Desmond couldn’t help to think that for the former capital of the world it _reeked_. Even after so many months there was still the smell of decaying sea animals and rotting plant life. Not the best experience while walking down the street of an ancient civilization.

At the street corner they saw light. Altair was ahead as a dark smudge in the rain they could only see through thanks to their second sight. He held up a hand and they stopped and he came back to them. “Good news and bad news,” Altair said. “Which do you want first?”

“Good news, cause I get the feeling we’ll be getting very little of that over the next few hours,” Desmond said.

“Okay. Good news is that the Unnamed is _literally_ just down the street. This road leads right up to it. Now the bad news is that there are probably two hundred Adjatevs between it and us.”

Desmond frowned. “Hmm. That is bad news,” Desmond agreed.

“But we’re close,” Ezio said, trying to be optimistic.

“I’m going to look, I want to see,” Desmond said and they let him go to the end of the street. He peered around the corner and frowned at what he saw. There were a lot of fortifications and turrets. He flicked through a few ways of seeing before finding one that would allow him to see through things. It wasn’t quite thread seeing and was more like seeing shadows against a dark background. He also saw the Unnamed and it filled him with more dread than he was willing to admit. Even at this distance it was gigantic and towered over everything in Atlantis at the top of a natural rise that had been cut into steps deeply eroded by the sea. The Unnamed was a great, black, squared, arch and within it swirled a hexoid energy that shivered and shimmered in the darkness. It cast a great light like a small sun and even in the darkness of night and the thick rain it cast out a beautiful light that cast long shadows down the street.

Desmond needed to go into that. He was absolutely terrified.

He swallowed and pulled back towards the others. “You okay?” Jake asked him.

“Yeah, fine,” Desmond said and fought the urge to fidget or rub his face anxiously. “Just uh… saw my destiny. Kinda surreal.”

“Yeah, it’s big,” Altair said.

“I don’t know why but I expected it to be… smaller? I guess,” Desmond said helplessly. “It looks like the arch from the Black Room and it isn’t that big,” he was trying to find an explanation for it.

“That’s just a memory,” Altair said. “We remember things differently than reality.” Desmond nodded.

“So, how do we want to do this?” Hawk asked. “Attack them head on?”

“We could,” Altair said.

“I can cover you,” Desmond said.

“You can’t get close to the action,” Ezio said. “We have another shot; you don’t.”

“I am _painfully_ aware of my own mortality, Ezio,” Desmond said, sounding a bit sharp to his own ears and regretting snapping immediately. “Sorry,” he added quickly. Ezio only blinked at him and tilted his head a little, his face a mask of understanding. He knew Desmond was doing his best. “I can cover you from the back. I’m not helpless.”

“But we are five people,” Hawk said.

“Well… five real people,” Jake said. “Can you do something about that, Desmond?”

“I might,” he said.

“Might? So you can literally change the weather but can’t give us a light show?”

“I mean it’s weird light manipulation,” Desmond protested. “I haven’t practiced illusions. You want condensed light in a laser I could probably do that or make us all… invisible-

“An even _better_ idea then,” Ezio said with a smirk. “We’ll ghost in and deal with them to cut you a path through.”

“He isn’t going anywhere down that street until its clear,” Altair growled. “Just because we’re invisible doesn’t mean they can’t see us. Even humans had thermal vision. I’m sure the proeathans have even more advanced tech. And especially in this rain and darkness they won’t be relying on their natural vision to see. As it is we can barely see.”

“True,” Ezio said thoughtfully.

“Still. Better than no plan,” Altair turned to Desmond. “Can you make us invisible?”

“Now that I _can_ do,” Desmond said. He immediately bent light around everyone and they vanished from sight. For the most part.

“Well, that worked,” Jake said and lifted his hand. Desmond could tell because the rain splattered against his arm as he moved it showing the vaguest outline in the rain.

“Better than nothing. We don’t need invisibility, this just makes it easier,” Altair said. “Let’s go. Desmond, stay here and cover us but _do not_ engage until we give you the clear,” him sternly shaking his finger at Desmond while invisible with the rain didn’t have nearly the punch it normally did.

“Unless I can’t help it, yeah,” Desmond nodded.

He assumed they nodded because there was silence but Desmond couldn’t really tell. “Good,” Ezio said. “Let’s go,” he said and they left Desmond. Desmond had to focus to keep all four of them invisible and tried a bit of illusion to mask their watery outline. He wasn’t sure how well he did on that. Illusions weren’t his specialty. But he did know he kept them invisible and could feel them moving around but not really what they were doing. He just kept them cloaked and found a place out of the heavy rain listening to the sound of gunfire in the distance.

He knew they’d made the first strike when he head gunfire close by. He would have felt one of them fall as he was cloaking them so none of them were hurt at least. Desmond ignored his feeling of not being able to help in a real way and just kept the invisibility up. That was more important than running to help and he knew it.

Desmond peeked around where he was taking cover when he felt something nearby. His eyes widened a little. It was a patrol and they were making it double time towards where the others were and straight at Desmond. They would be sandwiched and that was bad. Really bad. They were responding to the gunfire and probably the proeathans under attack saying over comms that they were being attacked by invisible people. There were eight of them. Desmond couldn’t let these eight get past and go help to take out the others. He knew Altair was going to be mad he broke cover but tough shit.

With a bit of doing Desmond created an illusion of himself in front of the patrol and they all dug in their heels and immediately scattered to take cover. So they all knew what he looked like. Great. No. Not great. Really not great. They opened fire on his illusion and Desmond felt two of the immortals do a full stop and turn around. “I’m fine,” Desmond whispered over comms to them. “They’re shooting an illusion.” The two who’d turned back went back to what they were doing.

Desmond moved the illusion around as he slipped out of cover and shrouded himself in invisibility. He sank down and nearly crawled along the side of the ancient and worn street to get behind the patrol. He had the illusion run and hide very visibly and three of the patrol members got up and gave chase. The sound of their boots and the pounding rain muffled any noise Desmond would have made as he to the other side of cover a proeathan was hiding behind. With a bit of shifted focus he could perceive the world around him better. He could see through and over the cover. There was one proeathan with a gun resting on a knee waiting for the command to go. They had their side to the cover and back to the wall of a dilapidated building.

Desmond flexed his fingers a bit and then grabbed to clench around the hilt of a dagger as the black smart material rushed to obey his will. He couldn’t bend light around it. That was fucking weird. So it was just a black dagger levitating. Kinda badass actually. He steadied his breathing and then with a single breath he vaulted over the cover and was on top of the proeathan. The armor had a high collar to protect the neck like a goret but Desmond was literally wearing the same type of armor. He just bypassed going for the well protected neck and stabbed down into the face of the helmet which was metal and glass. The black dagger cut through the material like it wasn’t there and the blade found bone as he lodged it in the proeathan’s eye socket. The proeathan had the chance to scream briefly before Desmond scrambled their brains through their eye and rolled off them to hide in the darkness and rain, tucking the dagger up against the underside of their arm so the light bending around his body would conceal it.

The proeathans reacted to the screaming and turned to see who it was. They were greeted by the sight of their dead comrade in the street with a shattered helm and their entire face a mask of blood. There was a few seconds of silence and then one of them opened fire blindly. Desmond wasn’t anywhere near them and had already snuck around them.

The weak part of the armor was the joints, like a lot of modern style combat armor that focused on heavy armor and taking blows. This wasn’t like in the times he’d lived through in the Animus where when you wore armor you made sure it covered as much as you as humanly possible and even accounted for the joints. Hitting an exposed joint with a bullet was difficult even if you were a sharp shooter and the idea was to make sure you never got that close that the vulnerabilities were seen. Didn’t work against an enemy who one; could go invisible, and two; was _really_ good at killing things up close. Desmond got behind two that had taken cover together but were now standing and looking around for Desmond. By now the three that had chased his illusion had come back. Desmond took off one of his gloves, bending light around his naked hand.

Honestly Desmond didn’t _really_ want to kill these proeathans. It was a waste of time. So he was going to see if he could just incapacitate them now. If he couldn’t he’d kill them but the first one was just make them nervous and acting stupid and untrained because they knew Desmond was around. He laid his hand as gently as he could to the back of the proeathan’s body armor. They must have sensed him because they tried to turn. Didn’t matter. Whatever was up with Desmond that shorted out proeathan power locked up their body armor. They fell over. The one next to them turned and started to open fire but Desmond knew it was coming. He tackled them and stabbed without thinking. Shit. He could have just tackled them and gotten up.

He was confused for a second and that was long enough to draw the rest of the patrol’s attention. They opened fire on their comrade, not even caring if they were dead or not. All they knew was that Desmond was there and he needed to die. Desmond rolled off and scrambled along the ground. Thankfully they still couldn’t see him.

At least he knew now that he could just take them out peacefully. They were more agitated now but Desmond was able to slip through and deaden all of their suits. By the time he was done they were all grounded and probably yelling inside their helmets and only two had to be killed. Good. He thought that was reasonable.

“Hey, Desmond,” Jake’s voice came over comms.

“Yeah?” Desmond asked, admiring his handiwork.

“Whatcha doing back there?”

“Taking care of a patrol. Why?”

“Cause whatever you did made them _real mad_!”

Desmond didn’t understand and he went back down the road and went around the corner, unafraid. He was invisible what the fuck was he afraid of? “Oh,” Desmond said at what he was looking at. Dead littered the street. But for every dead soldier Desmond saw others coming in from other streets. And storks. A bunch of them. And a tank. They’d brought a tank and were liberally shelling the street.

“We’re pretty pinned down,” Ezio said over comms.

“I can see that,” Desmond said and went back around the corner to be out of potential heat vision sight.

“Any ideas?” Altair asked.

“A couple. None of you are gonna like ‘em.”

“Well we haven’t liked any part about this so far so let’s hear it,” Hawk said sarcastically.

“Everyone in a safe place? I’m going to drop the invisibility.”

“Uh… gimme a sec,” Jake said.

“Where are you?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. Instead there was just silence. “I was standing under a stork. I’m good now,” Jake said. “Actually well hidden now.”

“Okay. Turn away from the street, close your eyes,” Desmond said.

“Roger,” Altair said.

Desmond dropped the invisibility on all of them and with a bit of doing made a few copies of himself. It was surprisingly difficult to maintain an illusion and now he had more respect for their illusionists to do it so easily at this point and maintain them for so long. He had the copies do exactly what he was doing which was walk out around the corner. “Desmond,” Ezio said slowly over the comms, “What are you doing?”

“Trust me,” Desmond said and gathered a perfect orb of light from the surrounding light from the storks and tank. He effectually stole the light right out of the bulbs and collected it in his hand until it looked like he was holding a star in his hand. The copies did the same as him. It got _everyone’s_ attention and the proeathans and storks and the tank all turned to him. “Cover your eyes, it’s about to get real bright out here,” he reminded them and threw the condensed orb of light into the sky overhand where he popped it and it exploded soundlessly in a white nova of light and warmth. It chased away any shadows and only because Desmond could perfectly manipulate the photons entering his own eyes did he not close them or go blinded from the searing, perfect, light like one had just stared at the sun. Not even the rain helped shutter the radiance.

The screams of pain sounded immediately. Proeathans that had been aiming at him and followed the path of the light ball were now experiencing horrible eye pain from how bright and intense the light had been. They were blinded. Desmond wasn’t sure for how long but he’d blinded them for the important amount of time. He watched as several of the storks took a step but their pilots were disorientated and as blind as the rest. Some of the storks walked into the buildings, others trampled several of their own men.

“Okay, we’re good,” Desmond said. “Back to work. They can’t see you so do your thing.”

“Holy shit,” Jake said over the comms, he sounded… afraid. That made Desmond sort of sad that his own friend was afraid. Then they all heard the whump of the tank firing at where it had last seen Desmond. If Tommy could stop a laser with the power of a nuke sure as hell Desmond could stop a tank shell. He caught it in midair. “Holy shit!” Jake cried, this time in awe. Desmond tossed it into a building where it exploded. He held the next one in the launch tube and when it was fired it jammed. As the others left their hiding places to take care of the closest proeathans Desmond figured out how to detonate the shell inside the tube. Took him a few minutes to figure out the wiring that would make it explode and not just disable the explosion.

“Oops,” Desmond said and hastily erected a barrier around himself and the others where they were doing their grim work when the tank shattered and blew apart like it was made of glass.

“HOLY SHIT!” Jake yelled.

“Sorry, didn’t think it’d do that.”

“You’re forgiven cause you just _blew up a_ ** _tank_** ,” Ezio said.

“We need to push forward,” Altair said. “Block new entrances and get into a closer position to the Unnamed before more reinforcements come.”

“Right, coming,” Desmond said and trotted after them. He stepped around as many bodies as he could and felt bad when he had to step on the corpses of proeathans. “Can we kill less and just make them unable to follow us?” Desmond asked when he actually came up next to them in front of a pair of storks that were frozen in fear of morning.

“Yeah, like how?” Jake asked.

“I dunno. Break their limbs?”

“That takes significantly longer,” Altair said.

“Only _you_ would complain about something like that,” Desmond huffed.

“I think the proeathans could do with a bit of herd thinning, they did the same to us,” Ezio said.

Desmond knew he wasn’t going to win this argument like this. So he just went up to the storks and deactivated them. They crumpled where they stood into a pile of smashed machinery and metal. “Try and _kill less_ ,” he stressed to them. “I don’t want to win by being _like them_.”

“Woah,” Hawk said.

“We’ll do what we can,” was all Altair said. Desmond figured that was as good as he’d ever get. Fine.

They cleared most of the block of proeathans Desmond had blinded but the Unnamed was still a ways off. “ _Stadalla_ ,” Od said over the comms.

“Yes, I hear you,” Desmond responded back.

“Did you do something?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Adjatevs on all fronts are retreating.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jake asked.

Desmond expanded his ability to feel out and started picking up hundreds, and _thousands_ , of proeathans starting to converge on their street. “No. No it isn’t,” Desmond said. “Od I need you to bring your forces to my location. The Adjatevs aren’t retreating. They’re just moving. They don’t care about you guys. They’re after _me_.”

“Oh… well that does sound bad. We’re on our way,” Od said.

As he said that a platoon rounded the corner and immediately opened fire. Including a pair of storks and everyone broke away and took cover. “Well, that was quick,” Ezio said sardonically.

“Proeathans are good at being places you don’t want them,” Hawk said.

“So, any bright ideas now, Desmond?” Altair asked.

“First off; fuck you. Second off-

“Can we get some help?” Baldur’s voice cut in. “We’re dying out here. There’s something… I don’t know what. Someone? My entire western flank is being annihilated.”

“By what? A tank?” Desmond asked.

“No. No artillery.” Desmond looked up a bit when bullets started flying. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, grabbed the rifle of a dead proeathan and started firing back. The other three immediately mimicked them. “I’m getting reports that it’s… a man?”

“Cain’s still on our side, right? Who’s he with now?” Desmond asked. He remembered hearing about Cain at the plantations and he and Altair just wading through the front line and taking out an entire platoon by themselves before they were gunned down.

“He’s with Lucy,” Baldur said.

Desmond changed his frequency, “Lucy, Cain, you there?”

“Yeah. And we know you’re in trouble, we’re coming,” Lucy said.

“No. Not that, you hear Baldur?”

“No. What’s wrong with Baldur?”

“Something is hitting her line hard-

“Desmond get the fuck out of the way!” he wasn’t sure who yelled it at him. Probably because he’d switched comms and wasn’t paying attention. He scrambled out of cover just as a stork came up behind him and smashed through the cover he’d just been hiding behind. He stared up at it and it seemed very big and ominous in the dark and rain, shining its front facing head lamps right down on him from twenty feet up. It didn’t look much like a stork. It looked like a giant, bipedal, mecha with a translucent cockpit in the middle of its big frame and had no head to speak of. Seemed like a pretty even fight to Desmond.

“You okay?” Lucy asked.

Desmond didn’t answer. The stork leveled its huge guns at him and opened fire. He held the bullets in air right in front of them. That made the pilot mad and went to step on him. Desmond dodged and crawled up the leg of the stork. The pilot tried to grab or shake him off. Didn’t work. Desmond knew where the arm was going to be thanks to future sight and dodged out of the way a few seconds before it happened. The stork swung wildly and Desmond heard and felt proeathans shooting at him on the stork. Once he was on its back he ripped off his glove again and grabbed something that looked very important on it. He shoved his body forward so as the power in the stork died it fell face first forward. Desmond rode it down and braced for it. He used his telekineses to cushion himself some so when it smashed into the ground Desmond was able to jump off and took off running for another safe place. Gunfire followed behind him and he felt it tink off his armor with more force than he wanted to admit.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked in his ear piece as Desmond slid around a piece of collapsed building and slammed his back against it.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Had to deal with a gundam,” Desmond said nonchalantly.

“By yourself?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah. Now about this thing attacking Baldur’s line-

“You’re unbelievable,” she groaned.

“One would think you’d be used to this by now,” Cain’s voice said over the comms.

“Matter at hand,” Desmond said even as he inspected his armor for serious damage and deal with this damn thing pressing against his back kidney that hurt like a bitch.

“Baldur told me its some sort of… something in a full body combat suit. Or a machine. They shoot it and fill it with bullets and then it gets back up.”

“Sounds like a robot,” Desmond said and made a face as he used telekineses to bull a couple bullets out of his body armor, including the one that had impacted against his kidney.

“You’d eventually shred the machinery,” Lucy said as Desmond used his telekinesis to force his body armor back into place so he wasn’t so shot up.

“I mean they made impossible to break buildings. Why couldn’t they make impossible to break robots?” Desmond asked. There was silence on their end. Desmond groaned in relief when he got the part poking his kidney to pop back out.

“Od says they never had that technology,” Lucy’s voice came back in. “And Baldur’s line is in full retreat. They can’t hold their line against whatever… this thing is.”

“Hmm,” Desmond was thoughtful.

“Desmond,” Cain said.

“Yeah?” Desmond looked around his cover to make sure he was indeed still in a good spot. The others were dealing with the outpouring of proeathans he knew were on the way. He was still safe. For now at least.

“Do you remember Apollo?”

“I try not to. Stuck in a building in the middle of a desert with you isn’t my idea of a good time.”

“I’m being serious,” Cain said, annoyance in his voice. “Do you remember Tiamat’s rat problem?”

Desmond sat straight up and ice crawled down his spine. “No way,” he said.

“Yes. It fits the pattern.”

“What? What does?” Lucy asked.

“I know what that thing attacking Baldur’s line is,” Desmond said.

“Well… what is it?”

“It’s Daniel.”


	92. Raindrops on Rooftops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I entered a writing contest last month. Wish me luck!

Desmond didn't know how it was possible. But it was impossible to be anything else. "Don't say shit like that. That's impossible," Lucy said. "Cain killed him on our first plantation sacking."

"And when Altair stabbed him. Remember Altair stabbing him? Cause I remember Altair stabbing him," Desmond said sarcastically.

"It can't be him," Lucy insisted.

"Yet I definitely saw him in Apollo," Desmond said, "and saw Cain snap his neck and then he got up, turned his head around and tried to shoot us. Wanna explain that?"

"I don't—

"You're the  _only_  one who would know anything," Desmond said.

"I— give me a few minutes. I need to think," Lucy said.

"We and Baldur don't have a few minutes."

"Well I don't know!" she cried. "I try and not remember being trapped with the proeathans okay?" she demanded.

Desmond rolled his eyes a little. "Okay. I'll come back to you." He switched back to the local frequency. "How's it going, guys?"

"Sucks," Jake said.

"Need help?"

"Well, they brought out some numia. Can you do anything about that?" Hawk asked.

Desmond turned over his shoulder around his cover. There was a numia in the middle of the street hovering and laying down suppressive fire any time someone poked their head out. He could do something about that. He lifted his hand to it a little just to help direct his mind a bit as his eyes blacked out. He formed a fist and all the light being produced by the numia both inside and outside went out creating a super dark ball in the sky. The numia started to wobble as the pilots became blind. As he formed the fist the smart material formed a throwing knife in his hand. He threw it lazily towards the numia directing it more with his mind than anything.

The knife sliced through the front window of the numia and lodged itself in the brain of the pilot. The numia immediately veered off course and smashed into a building, causing it to collapse and throw rubble out onto the street and kill several proeathans near it. "How was that?" Desmond asked and beckoned for his knife.

"When you learn to do this?" Ezio asked nervously.

"I've had this level of control for a while. Just had nothing to use it on," Desmond said as the hilt of his knife slapped into his open palm and reformed as a black bracelet again. "Was busy lifting rocks and shit." That got him a dry chuckle from a few of them.

He ducked back around cover fully again and contacted Baldur. "Baldur, what's your situation?"

"We're in full retreat."

"It's one man," Desmond said.

"One man who doesn't  _die_ ," Baldur said, "and with the same killing prowess as one of you."

Desmond frowned. "Fine. If you're going to retreat bring him towards me."

"You? Absolutely not."

"I wasn't asking for your input,  _sengar_ , I was giving you an order," Desmond said firmly. "If you can't deal with the threat  _I_  will deal with it."

"It is  _unkillable_ , Desmond," Baldur said.

"What good is being a god if you can't kill the unkillable. Now lead him here," he ordered.

He could imagine Baldur grinding her teeth. "Fine. We'll be there soon."

After that he contacted Lucy again. "You have good news for me, Lucy?"

"What?"

"Daniel."

"I don't know what's wrong with him. Vidic did something to him. I'm… not sure exactly what he did. Daniel was completely Bled through when Vidic got ahold of him. No present, no future, no past. He just sort of… existed. Vidic wanted me to help him once I got Her memories. I didn't want to and the proeathans didn't see the point of taking my time for it. Vidic was allowed to do what he wanted to do as one of their pet Templars but I wasn't part of it."

"You ever interact with him?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

"Warren I think… felt a lot of guilt for what he did. Didn't make him stop but he did feel bad for siding with the enemy. He felt bad for what had happened to Her, wanted to make amends. I wanted nothing to do with him."

"Can't blame you," Desmond shrugged and looked around the cover when something  _exploded_  down the street. Desmond wasn't sure what had happened.

"Everything going alright over there?" Cain asked.

"Oh yeah, it's peachy," Desmond said sarcastically. "And Daniel? You ever interact with him?"

"Once or twice when Warren would try and talk to me. He was never there. I never heard him speak. But he can listen. He isn't  _dead_ , I know that much. Warren acted like he was a great breakthrough. Like he was a final, good, outcome to the eventual Bleeding of the Animus."

"So then why can he keep getting up?"

"I don't know," Lucy said. "He's some sort of immortal I guess. Not like the others, not like Clay. Something is  _wrong_  with him."

"No shit," Desmond said. "Any ideas on how to deal with him?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know."

"No weaknesses?"

"Not that I know," Lucy said apologetically.

"But he's not dead? So is he alive?"

"I don't… think so. Not really. He's like… like a zombie, but smarter. He can think. He can understand orders. Like the one where he was sent to kill me in Mexico."

"Or to guard Tiamat and your clone," Cain said.

"Yeah, right," Desmond sighed. He looked up and rain splattered on his face. "How should I take care of him?" he asked.

"Come again?"

"Baldur is coming to my location with Daniel in pursuit. How should I deal with him?"

"Don't engage. He can live through anything, Desmond," Lucy said.

"No one is really immortal," Desmond said. "Even immortals can die eventually."

"No they can't," Lucy said.

"Yeah? Ask Cain. Pretty sure he felt pretty dead for a century."

"Desmond," it was, of all people, Clay, "you're needed on Baldur's frequency. She said her flank are converging on your area."

"Roger," Desmond said. He switched over to Baldur's. "Where are you,  _sengar_?"

"Two blocks out from your location. You ready?"

"I will be," Desmond pushed off from the wall he was using as cover. "I need Altair on this frequency," he said.

A few seconds later Altair's voice piped into his ear. "You rang?"

"Come towards me. I got a pest problem you're going to help me with," Desmond said.

"The others?"

"I trust them to watch our line. Baldur's flank is coming up, they can hold the front."

"Roger," and then silence.

"We're closing in on your location, Desmond," Baldur said.

"Strengthen our front. I've only got four people on it and they could use the help."

"Copy."

Baldur and her column came around out of the rain like a swam of insects in their dull combat gear. They were double timing it towards Desmond, their yellow eyes behind their helms like lamps and were more than a little freaky. They jogged past Desmond who was still sort of hiding. None of them seemed to notice him. Then they split and took a side of the street. As they did Altair came up beside him and Desmond had to stop himself from jumping a little. Savior of the world, still startled when snuck up on.

"So, what are we looking at?" Altair asked as the rest of the Ilythians were still running past to bolster their front and broke off to create new flanks to pinch the Adjatev forces ahead of them.

"Something that doesn't die," Desmond said. "Figured you're like the expert in not dying. So you'd be a good candidate to help me with this."

Altair chuckled a little, "I guess you could say that," he said.

They waited in silence as the Ilythians finished moving past and then it was just the sound of interspersed gunfire and the heavy sound of rain pounding on the ground and their helmets. Desmond looked down the street and went into a sight and saw a figure walking down the street towards them. They were in a very bulky version of the armor Desmond was wearing. They looked almost like Iron Man actually. They just walked but it was with purpose and long strides like how Desmond had seen the others move when hunting. He wasn't in a rush. He knew where his prey was and like the pursuit hunter humans were he'd just exhaust his prey before they managed to outrun him.

"That's it? One person?" Altair asked.

"Yeah," Desmond said. "It's Daniel."

"Bullshit. I killed him," Altair said.

"I assure you, that's him. He's hard to kill. Vidic did something to him. Apparently he's unkillable, like a zombie, or maybe a vampire. You stab or break his neck and he just gets back up. He was bothering Baldur's flank and that was why she's here now."

"Hmm," Altair stood up from where he was hunkered down with Desmond and walked towards Daniel. "We'll see how 'unkillable' he actually is," he said. It would have been a badass line if Desmond hadn't seen how unkillable Daniel already was. Still. He wasn't going to rain on Altair's parade of sounding cool. Was like the only thing the guy had going for him. Desmond waited until he was pretty far out before following him. Then Altair was close to Daniel and he didn't last at all. Altair killed him in basically a few seconds. Desmond trotted over to them as Altair put Daniel on the ground. "Seems pretty dead to me," Altair said smugly.

"Yeah you're very fancy," Desmond said sarcastically and crouched down. Daniel's helmet and the rest of his armor was  _riddled_  with bullet holes. Altair had killed him by putting a knife through the exposed neck part. He pulled Daniel's helmet off. His face was horrifically disfigured and bloody. Most of his face had just been shredded by bullets and part of his cheek just hung on by threads of skin. Desmond had to look away to cough. Oh, that was  _disgusting_.

"Yikes," Altair said.

Desmond had to catch his breath before looking back. The guy looked like he'd been through a grinder. But his eyes were open and staring at Desmond. But they didn't… look dead. There was no lifeless stare. It was empty sure. Desmond jerked back when Daniel's eyes moved and focused on him, "Holy shit!"

Desmond got to his feet as Daniel started to sit up. Altair was there in time to literally kick him in the head and smash into the ground. It would have been a terrible, wet, splat, had the road not been already clogged with water. "Okay, not dead," Altair said. "He was 'dead' longer when I killed him last time."

"Maybe it's how Cain can Wake so quickly 'cause he's died so many times," Desmond said.

"He's not immortal like us. It's unnatural."

"Yeah. No shit," Desmond said.

"What do you want to do with him?" Altair asked.

"When he wakes up, don't kill him again. Just hold him down."

"What are you going to do?" Altair asked slowly.

"You won't like it, so just stay in the dark."

Altair growled a little. "I hate when you do shit like this," Altair said even as Daniel woke up. This time he was prepared and ducked a potential kick. He didn't expect Altair to kick him in the chest and then rest his weight on his shoulders.

Desmond backed up a bit during this and looked down at Daniel. This was difficult and as he tried it he felt his nose start to bleed inside his helmet. Awesome. He still did it and with enough force established a psychic connection with Daniel. He knew what it felt like because he'd connected with Altair and Tiamat before. He was standing in a white room surrounded by ghosts. Daniel's ancestors. Everyone he'd ever Bled. He took a step back and that made them notice him. They reached out to him and immediately Desmond disengaged.

"Holy shit," he said to himself. He shook his head. Not quite telepathy. Some subset of dream sharing. He didn't bother to ask how he could dream share while awake. The better question was why could  _Daniel_  do it while awake?

"You okay?" Altair asked. "He's getting too rowdy," he added and Desmond winced when Altair curb stomped Daniel to stop him from struggling. Daniel's face made an audible crunch that made Desmond's jaw sort of hurt just thinking about it in sympathy.

"Yeah. I'm fine. His mind is  _fucked_ ," he said.

"Well, what do you want to do with him?" Altair asked.

Desmond looked down at Daniel. "Lemme try again," he said. Altair nodded and waited. Desmond just wanted to see. If he wasn't 'dead' but wasn't 'alive' did his state matter to his mind? He pressed into Daniel's mind again. This time the space was empty. It was just him and Daniel standing across from him. He was standing with his eyes closed. "Hey, Daniel?" Desmond asked. Daniel opened his eyes and Desmond was so startled by the sudden appearance by a thousand ghosts that he fell out of Daniel's head.

"You sure you're alright?" Altair asked as Daniel sat up. His jaw was still broken but he didn't seem to notice.

"He doesn't heal. He just gets up," Desmond said, Daniel was staring at him.

"Yeah? And?" Altair asked.

"And I don't know how to kill him."

Daniel shrugged to his feet and took a step towards Desmond. That was too threatening for Altair and he unfooted him and he crashed to the ground gracelessly. "He's a zombie right?"

"I don't know  _what_  he is," Desmond said. "He's just… he's Bled through."

"Well, he acts like a zombie. So let's just get rid of his head."

"Yeah and how you think we do that?" Desmond said giving Altair and annoyed look. "Going to saw his neck with your hidden blade? Not like we have a big enough weapon for beheading."

"Well… not now," Altair agreed. "But we could."

"Yeah? How?"

Altair pushed Daniel over and stepped to Desmond's side. He lifted his hand with the band on it. "This. It can turn into anything right? Turn it into something to do it."

"I… I guess," Desmond said. "Keep him down." Altair nodded while Desmond tried to make the band into something bigger than a knife. He had a similar problem as when he'd fought Hawk. He didn't really know the shape of an axe well. He was much more familiar with a knife. Altair preferred his hidden blade and Ezio was notorious for throwing knives over actually drawing a sword. Hawk was the only one of them who preferred a bit longer sharp object for their fighting. Altair wanted to be right up in the blood and Ezio would rather not get his cuffs dirty. And sure as shit neither of them used an axe to fight and Desmond only had vague concepts of what an axe or hatchet looked like from TV or the internet. He'd never held one. He'd never used one.

The smart material struggled without a lot of guidance. In the end, he ended up with a hand axe, hardly longer than his forearm with a pitiful blade. That wouldn't do. He tried again while Altair just kept pushing Daniel down. "Really, Desmond?" Altair asked. His next attempt was a comically huge anime looking axe.

"Like you'd do better," Desmond rolled his eyes. "I don't have any…  _axe_  context okay? I've never used one."

"So? You cut firewood haven't you?"

"No. Kids weren't allowed around  _actual_  blades, even an axe to cut wood," Desmond sighed. "And then I lived in cities. When the fuck would I have cut firewood?"

"He's more a pest than a threat. Couldn't Baldur have dealt with this?" Altair asked, distracted by Daniel again and threw him to the ground again.

"I think me entering his mind messed it up a bit. He was faster earlier. He's sluggish now."

"Could also be the kicks to the head," Altair smirked.

Desmond ignored Altair and tried again on this stupid axe idea. After a few moments he got it and it became a fireman's hatchet in his hand. "Okay, I got it," Desmond said.

"Good," Altair put Daniel down and then broke his neck with a well-placed stomp to the neck. Daniel stopped moving. "Get it over with and let's see if this roach can keep living without a head."

Desmond nodded uneasily and went over to Daniel's head. He hefted the axe and then raised it. He hesitated. He hesitated a long time. Daniel's eyes blinked and focused, looking up at Desmond and his axe. Desmond sighed and put his arm down. "I can't," he said.

"What? All that and now you can't? He isn't alive, Desmond. He's a fucking monster. You'd be doing him a favor," Altair said as Daniel sat up. Altair knocked him over and put his boot on his neck but didn't break his neck again.

"I know but… that could have been me," he said, looking down at Daniel in despair. "I can't."

"Fine. I will," Altair said and before Desmond could stop him Altair took the axe out of Desmond's grip. Or he tried to. The smart material turned back into a ball as soon as it left Desmond's grasp and Altair was left holding nothing. "Uh?" he looked at Desmond in confusion.

"It only responds to me," Desmond said and took the ball back.

"Well, what the hell do you want to do with him? If he  _is_  unkillable he'll just get in the way."

"I— I might be able to do something in the Unnamed," Desmond said.

"Okay? What do you want to do with him in the meantime?" Altair sighed.

"Break his legs. Not at the joint."

"Can't cut his head off but sure, just break his fucking legs," Altair said with a shake of his head.

"So sorry I have empathy still," Desmond huffed.

"Wasted," Altair muttered. Desmond had to look away when Altair took a few tries to snap Daniel's legs. Desmond didn't watch. He felt too much empathy for Daniel because he knew how easy that could have been him. If Altair hadn't come along and fixed him he'd be just like Daniel. More than just Ezio and Altair had been trying to break through when he'd met Altair in Germany. He remembered how  _helpless_  he'd felt when he'd been Bleeding and the nightmare feeling he'd had in Alexandria when he just thought he'd been Bleeding again and hallucinating someone who wasn't there. The terror of not being control of your own body but instead it was trying to be manipulated by a ghost of someone you didn't even know. It wasn't Daniel's  _fault_  he was like this. It was Vidic's. Vidic was dead now but the Subject's he'd found that were still alive continued to suffer for his crimes against humanity. "It's done," Altair said.

"Good." They waited to see if he'd get up. Daniel tried but Altair had bent the legs in a horrible way that made Desmond uncomfortable. He couldn't get his legs up under him. "Drag him into a building. He's harmless now," Desmond said and Altair grabbed Daniel's arms and pulled him off the street into the nearest intact building that didn't look an instant away from collapsing. As he did Desmond got back on comms, "Baldur, I dealt with your unkillable man."

"Good," she said.

"I highly advise not rejoining us at our position," Od said. "The Adjatevs are pouring in. If you can, come in through somewhere else. This street is blocked off."

"Damn," Desmond muttered as Altair came out of the building.

"What now?" Altair asked.

"Ezio, Hawk, Jake, you guys able to break away?" he asked on their frequency.

"Sorry Little Bird, kinda busy," Hawk said. He sounded winded.

"I'm coming," Ezio said, "Give me a second."

"Jake?" Desmond asked.

"I'm dealing with some  _shit_  here, Desmond. Deal with it," was Jake's reply.

"Copy," Desmond said.

Ezio appeared a few minutes later out of the rain and gloom. His armor was battle ragged with some bullet wounds but nothing that had gotten down to his flesh. "What's up?" he asked.

"You're with me and Altair. We're heading around another way."

"Good plan," Ezio nodded. "The way we were going has gotten too thick. We'll be fighting that front for hours and make no headway."

"So I assumed from Od. Let's go." The others nodded and followed after Desmond as he headed down another street. As he did he expanded his senses so he could know where they were going.

It was a couple boring blocks and the sound of gunfire got a bit further away. The rain had yet to let up or even seem to want to lessen in any strength. The streets were flooded and overfilling the ancient sewers that were probably clogged with who the fuck knew what. The water was already over their feet. Thankfully their boots were waterproof. They walked quickly, almost jogging, down the streets of Atlantis and then Desmond stopped and looked at a downed building that was mostly rubble and sand. "This way," he said and started to climb it. The others followed him and before getting to the top peaked over, just in case. The street was empty. He didn't sense anyone.

The street they'd been on before hadn't been straight and Desmond hadn't realized how close it had gotten them to the hill the Unnamed was on. He looked up and the huge arch loomed. It spilled light all across the streets surrounding it. The street they were about to get on didn't lead directly to it but it would be a quick corner to get to it. They were much closer than the last point of insertion and Desmond could see the details of the arch now. The slabs weren't perfect and at this range he could see tiny, perfect, golden lines carved into the slabs that emitted faint light. They were the same geometry as the marks on his skin.

"Desmond," the sound of Ezio's voice roused him from his trance. He shook himself. Ezio and Altair were halfway down the other side and Desmond had just been staring at the Unnamed. "You coming?"

"Yeah, coming," Desmond said. He glanced up at the Unnamed and then quickly joined them on the journey down the rubble. He was glad when they were back on the ground and the Unnamed was mostly hidden from view except for the very top, and the light. He swallowed.

"So, which way?" Altair asked.

"Ah— this way," Desmond said and started going again.

They walked to the end of the block, turned and then Altair yanked him back around the corner. Adjatevs had set up on this street. Not as heavily as the other street but this was a shorter shot to the Unnamed and no one was attacking them here yet. There was one thing this flank had more of then the one they'd just left; storks. About a dozen of them, and more up on the actual hill around the Unnamed, flanked around it like vultures. Poking his head around the wall Ezio went, "Ah, storks. I love storks."


	93. Storm Surge

 With so many storks in the way it would be a challenge to even get this far towards the Unnamed. Desmond could one-on-one a stork but with eleven others around they’d turn him into mince meat.

“We’ll deal with it,” Altair said. “Just stay back,” he told Desmond who reluctantly nodded. He heard Altair talking to Ezio as they went, “Grunts first-“ then they were out of earshot and weren’t talking over comms. Or maybe they were talking over their implants.

The two immortals slipped around the corner and made their way along the wall. As they went Desmond cloaked them. He felt nervous about them doing this alone. He felt their surprise but didn’t drop the cloak. It made them more daring, knowing they were invisible. Altair took out one small group of bunkered down enemies without any of them the wiser and Ezio did the same on the other side of the street.

That was, absolutely, the wrong move. A few seconds later Desmond heard several of the storks’ guns spin up and open fire on Ezio and Altair’s locations. The Adjatevs had been bait for this maybe? All Desmond knew was that the bunkers were _well_ lit up by the gun turrets.

“Altair, Ezio?” Desmond asked cautiously. Then he scrambled back when four storks came barreling around the corner. He quickly cloaked himself and ducked behind a pillar of the building. The storks turned, the barrels of their guns still spinning slowly, then spinning faster, and slowing, like the pilots were pre-firing them. The body could move without moving the legs like a tank and they did a three-sixty of the area. Then one stopped in Desmond’s direction. Oh shit.

Desmond had half an instant to erect a barrier like he’d seen Tommy do and thank god the shield held. Desmond left an illusion copy of himself there holding that shield and bolted into the building. The three other storks opened fire on the building too and Desmond had nowhere to hide really. He just had to get down and hide. Or that was his thought. Instead the storks just kept firing and firing. The building was going to come down. Desmond had to make a break for it or this building would come down on him. Somehow he got the feeling that was what the storks were doing.

He cloaked himself and made a break for it. This time the invisibility did nothing. The storks _saw_ him. He wasn’t sure how. He threw up a shield to protect himself. “Altair, Ezio? Please tell me you’re alive right now!” Desmond cried. No response. Mother fucker. They were Under. Desmond had to deal with four storks _alone_. Perfect.

He could do this. He’d have to. Otherwise he was dead and this was going to go to hell. He knew this was going to hurt like hell. With the shield still up and trying to be ripped apart by stork bullets Desmond ripped up the concrete of the road he was on. Just tore a huge hole in it. He hit the dilapidated sewer system of Atlantis after six feet. He jumped right into the hole without thinking. The sewer here was empty. Meaning there was a blockage somewhere else. Water from above poured into the sewer and Desmond retreated down the line. As he did he felt his nose start to pour blood. Awesome.

He ran fifty feet down the tunnel and had to stop. He took a squat and pulled off his helmet to help with the bleeding. He tipped his head back and his head cocked to the side when he heard the sound of storks above. They were walking across the street and coming towards him. They walked around in an area around him and then stopped above him. His eyes widened. They knew where he was. How? He was invisible and six feet down with layers of rock between them. He opened his mind’s eye to that and looked up and through them into the stork pilot. Desmond felt a chill crawl down his spine. They were all Ellderi. He recognized them for their bald heads and fringes and the white tattoos on their faces. Ellderi could see _through_ things with their cultural _sikas_. They were using the exact same _sikas_ Desmond was using right now and knew exactly where he was. Shit.

Desmond’s head jerked over when he heard people. Their voices. A ladder was lowered into the sewer and Desmond put his helmet back on. His nose was still bleeding but it had subsided some. An Adjatev climbed down the ladder, saw him, and tried to open fire. Tried being the key word since Desmond jammed their gun and sprinted down the tunnel towards them. The tunnel had been build with proeathans in mind to have to stoop in. It was tall enough for Desmond to stand up in with only having to lower his head a little. The knife came into his hand and even as the proeathan tried to unjam their gun Desmond was on top of them. He just went right for the kill and stabbed their neck several times.

He had to quickly jump back as those above opened fire and a pair of storks shattered part of the road above him. Desmond moved back and in an attempt to buy him time he collapsed the tunnel in front of him. He heard angry yelling on the other side and he sighed in relief.

“Desmond. Desmond, come in,” Clay’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Oh. Hi,” Desmond said, he was suddenly exhausted. Manipulating stone was exhausting. Like Tommy he’d needed to take a serious nap after they’d dug out the cave on the other side of the island. His nose was bleeding again. He leaned against the wall, head tipped back.

“What is going on? I haven’t been able to get in touch with you. Where are you?”

“I’m in the sewers. I took Altair and Ezio with me to go around their other flank. There were storks. Altair and Ezio are Under and the storks are piloted by Ellderi.”

“Uh… what the fuck is an Ellderi?” Clay asked.

“Proeathans with the cultural ability to see through fucking walls _and_ my invisibility,” Desmond groaned. “Now I’m stuck in the sewers.”

“Hmmm. Okay. Hold tight. I have backup coming.”

“Great,” Desmond slid down the wall some. “Hopefully there’s a medic with them.”

“You hurt?”

“No. But I’m psionically exhausted. I could use a boost.”

“Yeah, there’s a medic,” Clay said. “Just hold on.”

“Okay.”

Desmond waited in the silence of the sewers. Then he started to hear something coming from above him. Now what the hell was going on? He checked on the street level. They brought a tank in. But it had a weird attachment on it. It looked like… a digger? “Can I get a fucking break here?” he yelled in frustration. He had to stop that tank. His head hurt. It just hurt so much. He still had to do it. He checked out the tank and tried to figure the best way to stop it. This thing didn’t run on combustion like human vehicles did and it wasn’t using shells. There was nothing to blow up. At least not directly. “This is gonna suck,” Desmond groaned.

He had to sit to do this. He’d fall and he knew it if he tried to do this standing. He sat on a side well of the sewer system and started taking the other gases out of the tank, making it oxygen rich. It was an uphill battle since the proeathans inside were constantly expelling carbon dioxide and sucking up Desmond’s concentrated oxygen. And he did it without looking. If he used more power to look it would start to hurt. The act of separating gases wasn’t hard exactly it was just on top of everything else he’d done tonight already after two earth moves that it was a strain on his mind. He started getting a horrible migraine but couldn’t let up. Not when he heard the tank starting to _dig_ down right above him. He wasn’t that deep. They’d get to him quickly.

It took him several more minutes before he was satisfied with the amount of oxygen in the tank. Wearily Desmond looked up. The ceiling was rumbling. It was so close. Now or never. Desmond shielded himself and then created a spark from the electrical components inside the tank. There was a WUMP as the oxygen in the tank caught on fire all at once and then a pretty big explosion. The tank didn’t explode, there wasn’t enough force inside it, but it did crash down onto the thin ceiling. Desmond rolled out of the way to avoid the tank crushing him and the rubble formed around his shell of a shield. Now he had rubble to his left and right and no way out of either side.

He closed his eyes. He was exhausted and just needed a nap.

At the very least above him was mostly quiet now. He could hear proeathans and storks moving about but they were in disarray. They weren’t sure what to do. Desmond had blown up a tank on the inside when there had been no munitions in the tank. He could vaguely hear them through the rock if he listened. He heard _stadalla_ mentioned a lot. Yeah. Fuck you guys. This was what you get for messing with the god you made. Good thing they didn’t know that if they pushed him one more time he wasn’t sure he could properly defend himself.

A while passed. Desmond wasn’t sure how long. He kept an ear open even as he dozed a little. He didn’t mean to. He was just so exhausted. He roused himself when he heard yelling. Panicked yelling. What was going on? He was too tired to check. “Desmond, can you hear me?” Clay’s voice suddenly asked.

“Yeah, I copy,” Desmond said.

“You okay?”

“Tired,” he sighed.

“Your backup just arrived. Where are you?”

“Who’s here? I’ll switch comms.”

“Lucy and her angels,” Clay said.

Desmond smiled a little and switched to Lucy’s frequency. “My white knight in shining armor come to rescue me, huh?” he asked her.

“If you’re able to be a sarcastic idiot you’re fine, so I should just go back,” Lucy said. That made him chuckle. “Where are you?”

“See those two holes in the street?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m between them, six feet down in the sewers.”

“Wonderful. Hold tight while we deal with these storks.”

“You’re the best.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” she said and he could imagine her smiling widely.

Desmond waited. He heard the proeathans panicking about the angels Lucy had brought. And probably also about Cain wading through them, killing them. He knew Lucy also had a bunch of Ilythians and normal humans with her as well. The normal humans had been given the instructions to stay with one of the angels and when they saw them doing something to think about doing that too. Even if they couldn’t do it themselves the very act of supporting the psychic they were behind would empower them. The Ilythians were there to act as a shield and front like a phalanx to protect the more fragile line of angels and humans. There was a lot of gunfire and crashing above him. He couldn’t do anything about it. His head ached and he was trying to keep his bloody nose from flooding his helmet.

The gunfire stopped. He looked up with his eyes closed. Nothing happened. He heard yelling now. But not panicked. It was orders. Desmond opened one eye when he heard the rock next to him start to move. He just kept the shield up around him. It was all he could keep doing at this point really. Then with a great, crashing, rumble, the rock debris fell away and light from above poured down onto them. He squinted against the sudden influx of light and smiled. Mary stood illuminated in all her grandeur, the lights haloing her perfectly.

“Aren’t you glad you let me teach you now?” he asked Mary.

“Save the smart ass comments and get out of this sewer,” Mary said.

Desmond shrugged to his feet and clambered over the debris. Above was the rest of the lights. Most of them were synthetic but he did see a few strange fire orbs in the sewer with him and Mary. “Well aren’t you guys a sight for sore eyes,” Desmond called up out of the hole. Lucy and the rest of the angels were around.

“There are more storks coming for us. Get up the rope,” Lucy said. Desmond saw the rope against the wall. He climbed it easily. His body wasn’t tired. He could do some more fighting and climbing and running. It was the psionic exhaustion that was getting to him. As Mary was climbing the rope behind him and being helped up Lucy grabbed his shoulders and shook him back and forth. “What the hell were you doing down there?”

“Ahh!” He waited till she’d finished panic shaking him. “Well. Ezio and Altair both got put Under. I had to run. Storks came and could see me, I improvised. And, by the way, the stork pilots around here seem to all be Ellderi.”

“Well that’s not good,” one of the Ilythians nearby said. “They’re extremely annoying to rout. Even more annoying to hide from.”

“Yeah. That’s why I went underground.”

“And the tank?” Lucy asked him.

“They tried to dig me up.”

She frowned at him. “Okay. We need to move, more storks are coming.”

“Right,” and he followed her. They retreated far enough that the storks weren’t following them before seeking shelter in a still standing building. Lucy and Desmond went deeper into the building to be ‘safer’ in case foot soldiers came looking for them. “Where’s Cain?” he asked.

“He went for Altair and Ezio,” she said.

“Uhh… okay? They’re Under. It’ll take them hours to Wake.”

“Cain said there’s… a short cut,” Lucy grimaced.

“What?”

“Apparently if you shoot an immortal full of enough adrenalin it’ll Wake them early. Same with recently dead people. So he took all our adrenalin the medics had and went to Wake them up,” Lucy explained.

Desmond just stared at her. “Yeah. Okay. That makes total sense along with all the other bat shit crazy stuff that happens in my life. I’ll buy that.” Desmond had to sit down. He just sat on the floor. “Where’s a medic?” he asked tiredly.

“Are you injured?” Lucy asked, worried now.

“Not quite. I just need a medic, an Ilythian one,” he sighed.

Lucy left to get one of the medics in her platoon and came back with a very dark skinned Ilythian who had a face like a jaguar and almost white yellow eyes. “You’re in need, _stadalla_?” he asked. Their English was very bad but Desmond could understand them well enough.

“Psionic exhaustion. Baldur said you people had shit for that,” Desmond said.

The medic came and took a knee beside them. “May I remove helmet?” Desmond nodded and they took it off and took his face in both hands. As he did his eyes turned dark blue. Funny like that that the darker yellow had lighter blue and lighter yellow had darker. Desmond didn’t know why he was focusing on that. Probably because he was tired. “ _Yes, third degree psionic depressive exhaustion,”_ he released Desmond’s face and took off their pack.

“Is three best, or worst?”

“No. Five is instant brain death. Four requires long recovery,” he said.

“Oh. So it’s _almost_ the worst. Great. _What’s your name?_ ”

The medic looked up, surprised Desmond would even ask, much less in his own language. “ _My name is Leff,_ stadalla,” he said.

“ _Leff. Nice. You gonna fix me up, Leff?”_

 _“Hopefully it is not late third degree and you will come back with the injection_ ,” Leff said, taking out their medicines and injection guns. He rifled through the box a little. “ _You’re having headaches as well?”_

 _“Horrible ones_ ,” Desmond agreed.

 _“Then this first_ ,” he handed Desmond a tablet that looked like a piece of LSD. It was even fun and brightly colored like it. “ _Put it under your tongue_ ,” he instructed, not looking to see if Desmond obeyed.

“ _It won’t trip me out will it_?” Desmond asked.

“ _It will numb your brain_ ,” was Leff’s incredibly unhelpful and uninspiring answer. Desmond just shrugged to himself and put the tablet under his tongue. Leff found what he was looking for a took out a canister and plugged it into the back of the injector gun as John showed up.

“How’s he doing?” John asked Lucy, standing beside her while she watched Leff treat Desmond’s… psionic depressive exhaustion. Man even the name was tiering.

“Just tired,” she said.

“ _For third degree you will need two injections. Are you prepared for that?”_ Leff asked him.

“ _Yeah, hit me, Leff_ ,” Desmond said.

“The Ilythians in the platoon are nervous. They keep saying shit about Ellderi. What the hell is that?” John asked as Leff put the injector gun up to Desmond’s neck.

“Annoying,” was Lucy’s reply as Leff pulled for the first injection. She was hardly giving John any time. More worried about Desmond then John’s concerns.

Desmond shivered a little after the first injection. His headache was gone now and he was already feeling less like absolute shit. “Lucy, I’m serious-

“John, just a second,” she said, raising a hand to him, “unless you don’t care your nephew was actually in enough damage to _need_ a medic.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Desmond sighed as Leff was swapping out the canisters in the injector gun. “It’s a war. Lot of things to think about. But I appreciate the concern,” he smiled at little at Lucy.

John waited until after Leff was finished. “ _That should do it. It will talk_ half an hour _to have full effect_ ,” he said. “ _Until then you are in a repressed but not depressed state. If you don’t allow the injections to work properly you risk suffering forth or fifth degree psionic depressive exhaustion with less effort then you did already_.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Desmond nodded. _“We can sit tight for a half an hour_.”

“ _Was that all you needed of me,_ stadalla?”

 _“Yes. Thank you, Leff. I know you aren’t thrilled to be here, you may go.”_ Leff nodded and quickly gathered his things and left.

“So?” Lucy asked when he was gone.

“I’m out of commission for half an hour,” Desmond said.

“That’s a long time, Desmond.”

“It’ll be fine,” Desmond said and picked up his helmet. He pulled it on and contacted Clay. “Clay, what’s the situation with the rest of my army?”

“Where you started out is holding strong. Baldur and Od are giving the Adjatevs a real run for their money. The eastern front is harrowing them pretty badly too but they don’t have the numbers for a direct assault. They’re just giving the Adjatevs a hard time. From what we can decipher the Adjatevs are scared but they also have reports that the _stadalla_ isn’t _around_ anymore. We managed to catch a few transmissions that they think you ran away or are dead.”

“Good,” Desmond said. “I and probably Lucy’s angels will be hung up for the next thirty or so minutes. Don’t tell the others. I don’t need them worrying.”

“Roger,” Clays aid.

“Keep me informed if anything big happens.”

“Sure thing,” Clay said and then Desmond took his helmet off again and he finally tried to wipe the blood off his face from the nose bleed.

“They’re fine,” Desmond said. Lucy was just giving him a hard look.

“Will someone tell me who or what the Ellderi are now?” John asked. Lucy sighed and told him. “And why are they so bad?” Now it was Desmond’s turn. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

“No,” Desmond sighed. “I can do it too but the Ellderi are trained better at it.”

“So… what do we do? How do we beat them?”

“We don’t hide. They don’t have the upper hand if we don’t give it to them,” Desmond said. “There are only eight storks left-

“Only, he says,” John huffed.

“Yeah. Eight and how many people here? How many _psychics_ here? I literally took one out with my bear hands. Between the few dozen boosted psychics, the Ilythians, and bullets we’ll be able to take on eight. I was ambushed by four and a tank and I killed the tank. Let’s not get into excuses, John,” Desmond said. John looked well chastised from that.

“Hopefully Altair and Ezio will be Awake by the time we move out,” Lucy said.

“Hopefully,” Desmond agree. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I wanna just chill for this half hour while I can. I really pushed myself and Leff said not to push it for thirty minutes.”

“Fine,” John frowned at him. Lucy looked at him and the old man huffed and walked off.

Lucy went and kneeled next to Desmond, finally removing her own helmet. Her hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat. “Other than the psionic exhaustion, how are you feeling?” she asked him and grabbed his hand.

“I’m okay,” he said and was honestly surprised when she leaned over and kissed him. “I’m feeling _very_ okay now,” he corrected and that made her laugh.

“I was worried about you when Clay told me you’d been cornered by storks,” she said.

“Yeah. I managed,” Desmond said.

“Better than managed.” Then she looked away from him at the others who were closer to the outside of the building. “You rest up,” she said, looking back at him.

“I will. You go do what you need to do,” he said. She squeezed his hand and then got up. She put her helmet back on and went to go take command of her people again.

Desmond ended up dozing for the half an hour he had. “Desmond, let’s go,” John said, gently shaking his shoulder. Between the power nap and whatever the hell Leff had given him he felt _awesome_.

“You got it,” Desmond said and hopped to his feet and cramming his helmet back on. “Anything happen while I was resting?”

“No,” John said. “It’s been quiet. Most of the Adjatevs have been so focused on Od and Baldur’s front they aren’t even looking at us.”

“Good shit,” and Desmond connected with Clay. “Clay. I need numia cover fire,” he said.

“What? Wait what did you say, Desmond?”

“I need you to have a numia come around to our location. I want them to lay down cover fire and distract the storks so we can bring them down,” Desmond said as he and John found Lucy. She heard the end of that part.

“Now what are you planning?” Lucy asked him. Desmond told her the plan. A numia or two would act as a distraction for the storks while they ran in and downed the storks. Which should be easier now that Desmond was back up and running. “That’s just dumb enough to work,” Lucy said.

“I know, right?” Desmond grinned widely. “Any word from Cain about Altair and Ezio?”

“No,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“This is true,” Desmond said. “Now Clay, that numia?”

“I have one coming in. They aren’t on your frequency but I’ve told them what to do.”

“Copy-

“I told them to follow your _huge head._ ”

“Oh Clay, you’re such a pal,” Desmond said. He looked at Lucy, “Get your people together. We’re leaving soon.” Lucy nodded and did. “John, stay with me,” he said.

John was confused, “Everything alright?”

“I want you and your boosters to stay with me while we deal with those storks,” he said.

“Uh… not that I don’t like the sound of that but why?” He was suspicious.

Desmond smiled a little. “Well one, hopefully if you’re near me you won’t die and I don’t have to tell my brother you’re dead. And two, two pyromancers are better than one. Especially when working together, don’t you think?”

John wasn’t expecting that answer. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense,” he agreed.

“Glad we’re in agreement. I’ll stay close to you. I’ll just be one of your followers.”

John nodded slowly and showed Desmond to his little grouping of fellow humans who had were there to just think about fire a lot and shoot guns. Not a single one of them didn’t look like they also wanted to set shit on fire. That was the thing about psychics, so they were influenced by others they influenced the thoughts of others right back. John didn’t mention Desmond and just said hello to the others and made sure they were ready to go.

“Everyone,” Lucy called. “We’re moving out. Stay _behind_ the numia.” There was some nodding and she led them out.

As they went a cloud of silence surrounded them. The illusionists with them didn’t cloak them so much as distort the shape and size of their regiment. Desmond just kept up with John as they headed back to where the storks were patrolling, the numia flying above them as a silent guardian. When they got to the street with the storks the numia immediately opened fire on them. One stork went down before they had time to realize what was happening.

Lucy had them fan out and each group was assigned a stork. Desmond gave John a shove forward before running towards the one they’d been assigned. John and the others came after him and Desmond skidded to a stop in front of their stork that realized they had bigger problems then a numia. They were all realizing that. Desmond waved up at the stork and then looked at John. John must have wanted to show off because the fireball he made was _massive_ and he sent it colliding with the stork where it exploded in a bomb of oxygen that sent their stork reeling and melted part of the metal. Desmond was impressed. He wasn’t sure he could make a fireball that large and that fast in this heavy downpour.

The fireball did what he wanted it to do, mainly confuse the stork operator. Desmond jumped on the stork and in a few seconds had climbed up on top of it like he had before. “Desmond! Be careful!” John yelled up to him.

“No hands!” Desmond called back and lifted both hands off the stork before setting them on fire and putting them on the sensitive equipment on the back of the stork. He laughed when John shook his head in disbelief at him. Desmond used his body to push around the stork a little and caused it to tip forward. Between his hands fucking with the circuitry and the fire on the delicate electronics the stork was toast. Desmond rode it down and cushioned himself when it impacted hard. The Ellderi inside tried to get out of the crushed mech but the humans with John shot them dead.

“That was needlessly dangerous,” John scolded Desmond when he went back to him, triumphant.

“Yeah. But I won didn’t I?”

“Don’t do reckless things.”

“Yeah, okay,” Desmond rolled his eyes. “C’mon, it looks like they’re having trouble with their stork,” he pointed at someone else. John nodded and they went to assist with that stork too.

Desmond and John helped bring down three of the eight storks. Another was brought down single handedly by Hana and Mary, Lucy brought one down with a bit of help from some gunmen and unsurprisingly Cain showed up and also took one down all on his own. The last one was brought down through the combined effort of several angels, some gunmen, and Ilythians. Then the way was clear of storks and most of the Adjatev forces as well.

“Good job,” John said when they finished with their last stork.

“Thanks,” Desmond grinned at him.

“Contact!” someone yelled and Desmond instinctively hit the deck and flattened down to his stomach on the ground. From behind them, the way they’d come, Adjatev forces had come up and opened fire on them. Their soldiers opened fire on them again and John grabbed Desmond and dragged him behind a fallen stork’s leg behind cover.

“Never isn’t exciting in this place, huh?” Desmond asked John.

“Yeah. Something like that. Stay down, I’m going to give ours some cover fire; literally.” John stood up while Desmond snickered. Desmond thought about fire and making fire and he saw the surprise in John’s hands before realizing of course this would happen. He threw about six fireballs down the street nearly at once where they exploded like little concussive grenades. Desmond heard this panic the Adjatevs and the gunfire stopped a moment. Desmond peaked over the top of the stork leg. “I said stay down,” John said and shoved his head down.

That distracted the both of them and Desmond heard bullets hit armor with dull thudding sounds. He looked up as John stumbled back and then was covered in more gunfire. He collapsed on the ground next to Desmond. He stared for a second, not understanding what he was seeing. Then he grabbed John and pulled him towards the cover. As he did he erected a shield around the both of them. Desmond stared at John wide eyed. He was bleeding heavily. “Medic!” Desmond yelled for the Ilythian medics with them. Proeathans were good at keeping things alive. Saving people. It was like magic. One of them needed to come over here to help John! “I need a medic!” He pressed his hand to John's abdomen where he was bleeding hard. It seemed so hopeless. He was bleeding from everywhere. The bullet spray had really torn him up. “Medic-

John put a hand on his arm. He looked down. “That's enough,” he said hoarsely. With a grunt he took off his helmet and tossed it aside so Desmond could see his handsome face. Despite being soaked with rain and sweat his hair was still perfect. For the time being thanks to Desmond’s shield the rain had ceased.

“John, the medic is coming-

“It’s okay,” John said. The puddle under him was getting bigger and Desmond’s glove was getting covered in his blood. “I've done enough. I've done enough,” he sighed.

“John… you shouldn't have to die here,” Desmond said softly.

“Why not? Real hero’s death. Will make a good story. That's all we are really, and I wanna be a good one,” he smiled a little. Desmond had stopped pressing down on his chest. “I'm really glad I got to meet you, Desmond,” he said.

“Me too,” Desmond said and put a hand on John’s shoulder.

“And your brother too. Your dad, not so much,” he chuckled. Desmond smiled a little. John closed his eyes a moment then opened them again. “You look just like your uncle Eric you know?”

“No,” Desmond said. Desmond didn’t really know he had other uncles. 

John smiled, softly, painfully. “You do. When Andrew showed me a picture of you, years ago, I thought you were my baby brother. I wish you could have met them. Met all the Miles. Even dad. He would have _loved_ you.”

“Even though Andrew is my dad?” Desmond asked.

“He'd have figured his shit out eventually,” John said. “Once he'd swallowed his pride.” Then he sighed deeply, tiredly. “Too stubborn. Both of them,” he looked up at Desmond. “You believe in the afterlife?” he asked Desmond.

“No. Not really,” Desmond said softly.

“Me neither. But I hope there is one.”

“Changing your religion at the last minute, uncle John?” Desmond asked him.

John looked like he was about to cry. Desmond had never called him uncle John like Tommy did. Desmond knew of any of the people Tommy interacted with John was one who saw his personhood the most other than Desmond. Desmond knew John loved Tommy so much, just like if he _really_ had been his flesh and blood and not grown in a lab. Tommy always called him uncle John, they were family. Desmond had never admitted their familial ties. “Not really. I just hope there's an afterlife so I can see my baby sister again and tell her I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“That I didn't stand up to dad more for her.”

“Andrew says I remind him of her. I forgive you. So would she.”

“You think so?” John’s eyes were wet.

“Yeah,” Desmond said gently. “She'd forgive you.”

John took a deep breath. “Okay. Goodbye, Desmond.”

“Goodbye, uncle John,” Desmond said sadly. “With your blood, we made a better tomorrow,” he said softly. John smiled at him and closed his eyes. Desmond couldn’t tell if he was crying because of how wet his face was. He took two more breaths and breathed no more. Desmond sighed and sat back, looking down.

He looked up when someone appeared. “I'm sorry, _stadalla_ , you called?” It was Leff.

Desmond looked at John sitting against their cover of the stork leg. He looked rather peaceful like that, even sitting in a pool of his own blood, his entire front coated in it. “I did. I don't need you now.”

Leff looked at John. “I'm sorry _stadalla_. I came as quick as I could.”

“I'm not angry,” Desmond said. “He had a hero's death.” 

“Will you be well, _stadalla_?” Leff asked.

“Yeah. Go help someone who needs it, Leff,” he said numbly. Leff hesitated and then crawled away to someone else who needed help.

Desmond stayed where he was, looking at John where he was propped up. He hadn’t expected his death to feel so heavy for him. They hadn’t been close. Desmond had done everything in his power to not be close to John after he found out about how much he’d lied to Desmond about who he was. He’d also been what Desmond had desperately been looking for since he was eight. A member of his family who gave a _damn_ about him. He’d only known John a month or so and just like that he was gone.

What a fucking waste.

Someone came up behind him. He felt it but didn’t look up until they put their hand on his shoulder. It was Altair. He and Ezio were standing side by side. They were covered in their own blood but where whole and fresh. “Hey,” Altair said.

“You’re Awake. That was fast,” Desmond said.

“Cain’s doing. C’mon,” Altair squeezed his shoulder.

Desmond looked back at John. It felt wrong to just leave him. “We’ll come back for him,” Ezio said. “Him and the rest we lose today.”

“We need to go,” Altair said. “ _You_ need to go.”

“Yeah,” Desmond got up. There was no more gunfire. While he’d been saying goodbye to John Lucy’s men had taken care of the Adjatevs.

“Take a deep breath,” Ezio said. Desmond did. “Ready?”

“No. But I’ll do it anyway,” he said.

“Good,” Altair pulled Desmond forward and Desmond’s eyes widened, “because we’re here.”

They were at the base of the short hill that led up to the Unnamed. He’d been so focused on fighting the storks and then John he’d just… missed it. From here Desmond could hear it. It was a low hum. Like the sound of electricity through power lines, but deeper, lower. The energy inside the arch rippled as rain splashed against it and at this distance he could see that not only were there golden shapes on the Unnamed but they moved. The light from the Unnamed was warm, inviting but the structure hung ominous as the only bright thing in the darkness, illuminating the storm clouds around it. This was it. This was where Desmond was going. His destiny.

He gulped.


	94. Bird on a White Bridge

Desmond realized he was alive because there was sand and grit pressed against his cheek. He gave a puff of a sort of gasp of air and heard the sand move. Where was his helmet? It wasn't raining anymore and the light was pleasant. Not too bright or too dim, just a perfect light that wasn't offensive to his eyes behind his eyelids. There was no gunfire, no yelling, no sound at all really except the sound of his breathing. He shook his head slowly against the ground, grinding his face into the dirt. He didn't remember what had happened. Where was he? What had happened? Blearily his eyes fluttered open. It took him a while to focus. There was a shape in front of him he couldn't quite see.

All at once the shape in front of him came into harsh, perfect, relief.

It was Lucy in her pale proeathan armor. She still wore her helmet. She was laid out on the ground slightly spread eagle, her limbs arranged around her in uncanny positions and awkward angles. Her face was turned away from him.

Desmond scrambled over to her. His heart jumped up into his throat and he couldn't breathe. No no no. He turned her head towards him. Her helmet had been smashed, the visor splintered. He could see part of her face through the hole now and she didn't seem to be waking. He tore off her helmet and threw it aside where it kicked up more sand. Her short hair was plastered to her face from sweat and the rain and there was a perfect cut across her cheek from where the shattering visor had slashed her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, she looked like she was sleeping.

"Lucy, Lucy. Can you hear me?" he asked, still just holding her face in his hands. He put his ear down to her face and felt a rush of relief when he heard the sound of her breathing. Slowly. But breathing all the same. "Wake up," he said softly. Very gently he brushed some of her wet hair off her face. "C'mon, you're not dead, open your eyes for me," he whispered. She didn't. He shifted his grip on her to hold her against his chest instead, cradling her body against his own.

Only then did he look up at where he was. "Oh, fuck me, really," Desmond sighed. It was someplace he'd been before. Sort of. It looked like the Black Room of the Animus when he'd been in his coma. He closed his eyes. "This isn't real," he told himself softly. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. Altair fixed me. He fixed me," and he squeezed Lucy a little. He peaked at the strange landscape and hated that it wasn't what he'd just been looking at. It was a house now, in a white field. The most horrible stereotypical white picket fence sort of house you saw in television but not the horrible sort you saw in housing developments. He squeezed his eyes closed again. "I need you to wake up, please," Desmond whispered to Lucy, holding her tightly to him. He needed  _something_. Anything that would tell him he wasn't losing his god damn mind. He was too afraid to peek again. He didn't even know what the hell was going on or where he was. "Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up," he said as a soft chant, doing his very best not to rock because he was literally about to have a panic attack right now because he thought he was losing his mind.

In his arms, Lucy made a noise. He opened his eyes and saw her eyes moving behind her eyelids. Slowly, very slowly, her eyes fluttered open, struggling to stay open. "D-Desmond?" she asked once she could sort of focus.

He smiled widely at her, "Hey," he said.

She grunted a little and rubbed her eyes. "Where are we? What happened?" Then she sat up so fast she almost collided with Desmond's head. "Atlantis!" she cried. "What about Atlantis? The storks, the other angels- we have to-" she lurched to her feet and immediately crumpled. Desmond caught her.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't remember anything about it. I don't know where we are." He held her to him again and she seemed less excited about jumping to her feet now. She was also looking over his shoulder at something.

"Desmond," she said and all she did was point behind him,

Desmond turned his head and his head craned back. "Oh. Well. That certainly explains a lot," he said even as he swallowed. It was the Unnamed. It was huge. Unlike the last time he remembered seeing it the energy swirling within the arch was calm with gentle swirls of green, blue, and white weaving throughout the surface. Golden glyphs decorated the arch itself and flashed across the swirling energy like lightning. The entire thing hummed ominously and Desmond didn't know he hadn't heard it before. He could feel it in his bones.

They'd done it. They were  _inside_  the Unnamed.

"I don't remember what happened," Desmond confessed and looked back down at Lucy. She shook her head slowly. She didn't remember either.

"We're in the Unnamed but… where are we?" she pushed off him to sit up on her own and looked around.

"Do you see what I see?" Desmond asked. "Do you see a house?"

"Yes," she said. "That's all there is. Let's go look," she struggled to her feet and Desmond had to follow her. He didn't want her to leave him or let her go alone. They stumbled a little as motion returned to their limbs.

As they neared the house it started to shift. Desmond grabbed Lucy's arm fearfully. "Is it changing?"

"Yes," she said. Then she realized what Desmond's fear was. She grabbed his hand and looked at him, "I see what you see. It's okay. You're fine," she said gently. Desmond nodded uneasily.

When they arrived at the house it had become a box that stretched up to an impossible ceiling that they couldn't perceive. As it was the white cube was hard to distinguish from the rest of the searing whiteness around them. Desmond craned his head back to try and see the top but couldn't. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the Unnamed as its horrible monolithic shape. The sand and dust only existed just around the entrance of the Unnamed from it being blown through the arch over the millennia it had been there creating a sort of little island around the Unnamed.

"Oh!"

Desmond turned back around in time to see Lucy quickly pulling her hand back and away from cube after she'd touched it with just the softest brush of her fingertips. The surface rippled and they watched as the white became colored but also dark and gray and moody. "That's… me," Desmond said. It was him, from about six inches down from his usual light of sight. He'd never seen himself at that angle before.

"Cain, Altair, Ezio," Lucy said slowly as the 'camera' panned to each one of them.

"What is this?" Desmond asked. He reached out and touched the image. It rippled and changed. It was the same scene, except from a higher perspective and they could see Lucy now but not Desmond. Then they watched as the 'camera' was 'picked up' and looked around at the rubble that was Atlantis around them and then a quick glance up at the Unnamed and the storks patrolling around it, then away again, as if fearful to look. They watched in silence as the image moved forward and then they both jumped when there was a voice. "You ready?" It was Lucy's voice.

"Probably not. Still have to do it," Desmond's voice said and the 'camera' panned down to look at Lucy standing next to them.

"It's a memory," Lucy said, the Lucy next to him for real said.

"What? How?" Desmond asked, even as the two of them had another conversation in the memory.

"I don't know. But this is  _our_  memory. Or, yours. It showed mine earlier when I touched it."

"This place just  _really_  knows how to up the creep factor doesn't it?" Desmond asked and Lucy giggled a little.

They watched Desmond's memory play out. Desmond had no recollection of what was happening so he was interested in seeing how they got here. It was very stealthy and they managed to get around the storks for the most part while the other angels distracted them. He and Lucy went together, him cloaking their visuals, her cloaking their sound. There were other proeathan up around the Unnamed and they either had natural IR or goggles because they saw right through Desmond's cloak and opened fire on the both of them which made him flinch despite knowing he was safe.

They fought with the proeathans up there until a stork showed up and literally batted Desmond to the side, sending him flying and tumbling across the ground, smacking into the flat side of the Unnamed. There was a cut in the memory from Desmond blacking out for a few seconds and then he woke up in time to see a stork nearly about to step on him. He hadn't seen what stopped the stork and distracted it until it was crashed to the ground and saw Lucy on its back with a strange black knife. He glanced at his wrist and saw it was gone then looked back at her.

"Huh, look at you all badass," Desmond said rather smug and proud. Lucy just bumped against him even as in his memory Lucy lurched forward and dragged him to his feet. She said something but it was lost in the sounds of war around them and Desmond still reeling from the impact and couldn't hear her.

"Saved your ass  _again_ ," Lucy said as past her shoved Desmond forward and straight into the gate of the Unnamed. The memory ended in white light. The wall returned to its perfect whiteness.

"As usual, you mean," he said.

"That too," she grinned at him.

"Thanks for saving me," he leaned down and kissed her gently, "again." She just smiled some more. "But now what?" he looked around.

"I don't know. Maybe there's a command area somewhere?"

"Where?"

"Inside?"

"Okay, but how do we get inside?" Desmond was still clueless. Even as he said that the wall split and revealed a perfectly rectangular opening that led to an open room of the house it had been previously. It looked like a living room with a comfortable couch and chair and a television and beyond that he could see a spacious kitchen. Along the other wall was a set of glass french doors that opened out to a manicured side yard. It was a dream scenario sort of home that people longed for. He looked down at Lucy. "You seeing that?" he asked nervously.

"I see it," she assured him and took his hand. She looked up at him, "Shall we go?"

Desmond hesitated. "I don't want to," he whispered, terrified.

"You need to," she soothed him. "Or everyone outside still fighting will be for nothing. It isn't scary, Desmond. I'll be with you the entire time."

"Promise?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand a little. "I promise. Now c'mon. Let's find where this place is controlled so you can save the world." Reluctantly Desmond allowed her to pull him through the doorway leaving the terrible whiteness and Unnamed behind as the wall sealed up behind them.


	95. A Mirror to the Sky

The Unnamed was a strange place. It was many places and nowhere at the same time and existed at all times but no time. It was a kaleidoscope that for a while spun without reason. It would twirl and then focus on one thing for a short time, a few days, a week, and spin again.

It was buildings a lot. Homes.

Five bedroom apartments with a living room that had floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a city that was both not one specific city but every major human city. A log cabin the woods, snow falling outside with a magnificent fireplace and soft fleece blankets that when you opened the windows you felt the bite of winter. A cramped city studio you were lucky had a full kitchen and was more cozy then small with a plush space rug over pale wooden floors. A half a house on a beach on a coast of somewhere they didn’t have a name for with beach chairs down by the water you could sit in and smell the sea. Low income housing that was nice for what it was but empty with barely a futon and somehow opened onto a dirt road. Some sort of generic housing development house for a family of four and a dog with a fence and a deck and pool and perfectly trimmed lawns. A micro house with three rooms but was small and cute and good to curl up in the bed against the window and watch it rain outside.

Other times the kaleidoscope twirled and seemed to latch onto a theme that was like stepping into a dream. Places mostly.

A beach that stretched either way into infinity and behind was a city that was infinity far away, out at sea the sunset over and over and over again, each display more dazzling and dramatic than the last, the sand soft under their feet, the wind gentle on their faces. The Rocky Mountains during the winter with its impossibly tall peaks and drab grey clouds heavy with snow and the sharp taste of cold in their lungs. A dream city that they saw outside of their apartments sometimes, a place that was everywhere and nowhere with monorails that ran in circles and surrounded by sea and impossibly deep pits with streets filled with every style architecture and most of famous buildings of the world. An island with a dock, behind was jungle, and before was a vast, sparkling, sea; there were fishing poles and they spent a lifetime catching fish of an impossible variety each jewel toned and more extravagant than the last one. An endless set of hills and grass that felt like childhood with a sky that was perfectly blue and impossibly huge where no matter how far or long you ran the hills never got any closer and the only place you could go was back into the quaint house by the river.

Then the kaleidoscope turned over and around and it was nothing. It was as if the Unnamed didn’t know what to do. It froze and was confused. It was a hall and a memory played across it.

The first time Desmond had woken up in the Animus, seeing Warren Vidic and Lucy Stillman. Life on the Farm and another alien but eerily similar experience on Saddlebunch Ranch. There was less abuse on the Ranch than the Farm. No one let Lucy get hit growing up. There was a lot of open road, hitch hiking, trying to get to somewhere Desmond didn’t even know the name of. Just somewhere that wasn’t ‘home’. There were lecture halls Desmond had never seen before but Lucy could even tell him what the professor was teaching. There was a lot of staring into computer screens and later phone screens. At least for Lucy. Desmond always owned a burner, never owned a smart phone; too dangerous. There was a lot of bar life, flirting with people on slow nights and trying to keep up during busy nights. The sound of a motorcycle was constant in some memories of riding down roads. There were a dozen friends, a hundred acquaintances, a thousand strangers, even a handful of girlfriends and boyfriends. There was the others: Altair, Ezio, Hawk, Jake, all sorts of things neither had either seen because they hadn’t been there. And memories they never knew. Memories of all of Desmond's ancestors. They were random and came in flashes without any rhyme or reason. Lucy had none. All she was was herself. There was no one else to her.Then, one of the last ones Desmond allowed without his consent was the memory of finding his brother bled out in his bed. It was a perfect, clear, memory that even if Desmond could only remember it as the nightmare it had been was telegraphed with simple, quiet, honesty.

After that Desmond was done with bending to the whims of the Unnamed. He started to bend it back. At first he didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he didn’t want to see his dead brother. He was quite done with the Unnamed doing whatever it wanted. He didn’t break it. But _oh_ how he wanted to break it.

It was slow at first but then he learned to control it. First he could decide what type of ‘house’ it would become, then he could start building it from the ground up, populating it with all manner architecture and objects. Then he could start making other things. The every-city and places that were without didn’t show up. Instead they’d stand in whiteness and from Desmond’s thoughts a thousand worlds would blossom. From nothing he’d make an entire city, the Unnamed rushing to comply with his desires. Rome wasn’t built in a day but the cities Desmond were. Then he started populating them with more than just buildings. He filled them with things and stuff and _people_. Not real people of course. Fake people. Shades and images. All the people Desmond had every seen on the street or television filled the world. People were easy. Animals were harder. How did birds work? How did they fly? How did digitigrade legs work and cats didn’t move quite the way Desmond thought they did. But it was the eyes. The eyes were hard. Humans it was easy. He just had to look at Lucy’s to know human eyes but you couldn’t put human eyes on a dog or a cat or a pigeon.

The worlds Desmond built started grand and ended granular until Lucy said, “Make something else.” Then it would all dissolve into light and they would be back in the white as he took everything away.

“What should I make next,” he’d ask.

“Something better,” she’d say.

So Desmond did. He tried to make it better each time. The cities became better, the architecture less like a child’s drawing of a city and more like a city filled with real buildings. He spent an entire day obsessing over the brick pattern of a brownstone’s wall. A week was spent getting the scrolling right on the columns of a building that looked like a library but Desmond wasn’t sure; he never filled it before tearing it all down. He spent an entire decade figuring out how to plan a city to be aesthetically pleasing and organized. Several centuries took up his time trying to come up with a house floor plan Lucy didn’t hate, his mind distracted from the city building for the details. Then once he started going small he kept thinking smaller. From a floor plan to how to construct a comfortable chair, couch, and bed, to how to weave a cloth that was both strong and durable that went beyond ‘generic red cloth’ that the Unnamed just produced out of nothing. Harder still was when he decided to start making clothing. The day they stopped wearing the clothes under their armor was centuries from when they’d come in. Nothing was good enough. He thought about it constantly. How it should feel and what it should look like. Lucy didn’t mind the constant changing fashions, even when they were sometimes uncomfortable and unpractical.

They were in there for more life times then nearly any other. Only a handful of the immortals could claim to have gone on longer. But still they didn’t tire, didn’t grow hungry, didn’t age. Time moved funny in the Unnamed. He could build cities and mountains in moments and spend decades on manipulating the most delicate existence. There was an entire universe inside the Unnamed and Desmond was at the center of it but it didn’t revolve around him. Any time he went too long or showed signs of too much obsession Lucy would say to him, “Do something else. This is boring.” Then they’d find something else to do. Some other place on Earth Desmond had seen on TV or been to to explore and he’d pull out as close to a true recreation as he could out of his own head and the Unnamed bent and twisted to his will and made it reality. Things they could touch and smell and taste. Here Desmond really _was_ a god.

Yet still he could never get that pesky scar on Lucy’s cheek to heal no matter how hard he tried.


	96. Falling Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I add a chapter to this story I look at the difference in chapter #s and am like... are they off? I can never find where it's off cause all the chapters line up :T So maybe I'm just crazy

They were nowhere. Well, nowhere was relative. They were somewhere in nowhere. A place Desmond had made. A quaint cabin but when you looked out the windows you saw a bustling city from above. Desmond had spent forever coming up with a house Lucy didn’t grow bored of too quickly so he could focus on other things. At least until recently. She’d been growing annoyed, throwing stuff around. Kept saying it was too small. Desmond had reminded her that she hated big houses, said they felt empty. She said this one was still too small. Desmond knew he’d be renovating at some point. Maybe he could convince her to put on an addition instead of bringing it up from scratch. He rather liked this house. He’d spent a lot of time on it.

Next to him Lucy was shifting around restlessly on the bed. Desmond was resting his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. The bed was soft, the sheets so soft and light it was like being wrapped in a cloud. Desmond opened one eye, “What’s the matter?” he asked her while she rolled over restlessly.

“Nothing,” she muttered. Desmond left her alone. She’d tell him when she wanted to. “Desmond,” she said after many minutes had past, an unknowable amount of time because time was unknowable here.

“Hmm?” he turned his head to her. His brows went up when she rolled over him. She traced her fingers across the geometry on his naked chest. The glyphs and geometry were still there, but they gave off only the softest light. He couldn’t turn them completely off anymore, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t affect the world. It _did_ made playing hide and seek difficult; and they played it quite a bit. “I like this,” she said and raised herself up just enough to kiss him. She tasted like clean and her skin was soft against him.

“Me too,” he agreed, smiling against her lips and gently stroked her cheek. She still had the cut on her cheek, but it no longer bled, most of the time anyway, sometimes it would ooze but then they’d just bandage it up again. “I like it _so much_ I think we should do it again,” and he slid his hand under the sheets and against her.

She giggled, “No,” she said and grabbed his hand and brought it up and gently kissed the top of his knuckles.

“No?” that was a surprise. Usually she was the one dragging _him_ to the floor or any flat surface honestly. At least between Desmond’s obsessions when she could distract him long enough for sex. It wasn’t hard. Desmond liked having sex with her. She was beautiful and smarter than him and he made entire worlds for her.

“No,” she said again.

“You sure I can’t change your mind?” he asked with an eyebrow waggle and kissed her.

That made her grin as he kissed her. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m trying to be serious.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“We have something to do,” she said seriously.

“I forget,” he said.

“No you didn’t,” she scolded him.

“I like to forget,” Desmond sighed. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. It was a ceiling and a sky. A projection of a sky that was perfect and lifelike, the clouds across the blue face of it rolling and forming into banks and dissipating. It grew into twilight and darkness at his whim. He liked the big blue sky. It reminded him of other times.

“This has been nice but there is more I want to do with my life.”

“Your short life,” Desmond said, callous and mean about it.

“Yes,” she said and sat up, staring down at him. “But it’s my life and I want more from it than this.”

“Lucy, what can I make for you then?”

“Nothing,” she said.

Desmond sat up, “I can do anything here.”

“Not this.”

“Bullshit. What do you think can be done out there that can’t happen here?”

“Well us getting pregnant for starters,” Lucy said and Desmond’s annoyance evaporated.

“What?” his mouth hung open a little.

“You heard me.”

“You told me you didn’t want to,” Desmond said. They’d been together a long time and spoken in great detail about many things. Lucy said she didn’t want children. If she only had two and a half years left she didn’t want to leave a motherless child in the world, no matter how much she loved Desmond.

“I changed my mind. I’m allowed to,” she said.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he said. He was still on uneven footing from what Lucy had said. “You sure you can’t here?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried. I don’t think I can in here. Time works differently. We’ve been in here forever and I’ve never been on my period. It can’t happen in here. The way time works here doesn’t allow for it.”

Desmond frowned a little. He cupped her face with both hands, “But out there you die,” he said, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks.

She put her hands over his hands. “All things go in a cycle, Desmond. Especially you.”

“But I love you.”

She smiled, “I know. I love you too. That’s why I want to have a baby with you. But we can’t unless it’s safe to leave this place and we leave this place.”

Desmond sighed. “I guess,” he dropped his head and released her face. He sighed again, deeply. “I know where the control station is.”

“You do? Since when?”

“… A while,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he didn’t answer, “Desmond. You’re here for a reason.”

“I just…” he huffed. “I wanted some time,” he admitted, “to be happy,” he looked at her, “With you.”

She smiled sweetly at him, “I’m always with you,” she said and kissed him again.

“For now you are,” Desmond said softly.

“We need to go. Everyone is still waiting for you.”

Desmond nodded a little. “Okay. We should get dressed,” he said.

“Oh right,” she agreed. They laughed and got out of bed. “I want pants,” she said very seriously, standing, just covered in the sheet, Desmond wore nothing at all for a moment then few seconds later he was fully dressed, the clothes materializing on his body and covering all the glyphs and geometry. Simple stuff, a t-shirt, jeans, he didn’t bother with shoes. He was shit at making shoes anyway. Even after so long he was still shit at some things.

“What kind? This kind?” he asked, hand on his chin and the sheet dissolved into particles and nothing and a pair of skin tight leather pants appeared on her legs. He thought she looked better in skirts and dresses and pretty things. He liked dressing her in things that looked like they belonged on models because she deserved it. He was the spoiling type, sue him.

“No!” she cried.

He laughed, “Right, right. How about,” he thought for a moment, “Like this?” and he liked her in jeans and nothing else but he knew she’d take issue with that.

“Yes,” she said.

“And…”

“Really Desmond?” she asked looking down at the ridiculously frilly bra. He couldn’t make shoes to save his fucking life other than sandals but he could make the hell out of a bra. Lucy told him very loudly when it was uncomfortable and how to make it more comfortable. He’d literally pulled up their own memories on walls of glancing at the damn things in catalogues or the ones his ex girlfriends had worn. Apparently it was one of the single most important pieces of clothing girls wore other than good hair ties. Elastic was a bitch to make right. But he knew how to do both right because Lucy demanded it and he’d do anything for her.

“What? I like to spoil you.”

“Please, something not so much.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Better,” she agreed, it only had one bow on it and no lace. “Will these come with us when we leave?” she asked.

“I think so,” Desmond shrugged and put her in a simple shirt, a blue one, because he liked her in blue. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t.”

“I wish you could do this outside of here. This is so cool, and I’m so spoiled with this,” she looked down at her chest.

“What?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a perfectly fitted bra, even before the end of the world?” she asked.

“… Not really,” he admitted.

“Well it fits perfectly. I want to take it with me.”

He laughed, “Lets hope so. Now c’mon,” he held out his hand. She took it.

“Where is it?”

“Here,” Desmond said and around them the cabin dissolved into light. The city fell away into nothingness, not even leaving behind dust. They were in the whiteness again. The Unnamed monolith hummed gently behind them and in front of them was a dais with a clam shell dome covering it. Like the rest of this place it was white and only thanks to the shadows could you even see it at all. There was a mechanism in the center of the dais, it looked like a reclining chair. “It was always right here. This place looks big, it’s not. It’s only about the size of a two story house. It just changes,” Desmond said.

“It’s supposed to make you never want to leave, isn’t it?”

“Or never do what I’m supposed to do,” he agreed. “It’s a perfect trap, in case any proeathans or humans with the right amount of genes came in here. They’d never have full control, like I do, and they’d never find this.”

“Really, when did you know?”

“About the time I could start making animals,” he said. “I can… feel it, the entire interface. We’re not just in it, I’m a _part_ of it.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I mean like… I’m not a machine or anything. But the machine itself is using me to build everything we see. Once I figured that out, I could do anything and I knew where the central interfacing mechanism was. I just… chose not to bring it up.”

“Let’s go,” Lucy started pulling him towards the dais. “It was nice though,” she said and swung his hand.

“It was,” he agreed.

“How long have we been here?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s felt like forever,” she said.

“It hasn’t been. Somehow I feel like it’s been a very short amount of time.”

She sighed, “I hope so,” she said.

Then they were at the dais. It was only about a foot off the ground and the half dome was shiny and metallic looking. “Well, here goes,” he said and let go of her hand and stepped up onto the platform.

“Hello Seventeen,” and a hologram appeared. Desmond froze.

“Oh that’s just _not fair_ ,” he said to the hologram of his brother. Duncan looked like Desmond’s memory. A sixteen year old with a bad eye that was angel black, his other a grey blue like their dad’s; the black eye was new. He had the start of scruff on his cheeks and jaw, his dark blonde almost brown hair swept to one side with a hand. It looked exactly like him down to the last details. “First off: fuck you. Second off: what are you here for?”

“I’m the interface,” Duncan said, his hands behind his back. “I’m here to assist.”

“And totally freak me out,” Desmond said.

“I’m supposed to give you pause,” he said, “I assist the _stadalla_ , that is my purpose.”

“And that’s me, right?”

“Yes,” and Desmond’s shirt and jacket fell away into dust. The glyphs on his body blazed. “The Unnamed was foretold since the dawn of proeathan civilization. The dark star, the unlucky, the end and the death and the destruction, the start of a new era that would wipe the world clean to start anew. You are the monster mothers warned their children of.”

“Well I’m not that. You’re here to help me?”

“If you want, yes.”

“Lets play a bit of twenty questions first, cause the proeathans I’ve talked to up to now have been stupid and guessing at all this and anyone else gives me half truths because they like jerking me around and feeling self important.”

“Whatever you want, Seventeen.”

“First. Why are you calling me that? I have a name.”

“It is irrelevant. You are the Seventeenth _stadalla_. In here that is what matters.”

“Two, why my brother?”

“Why not?” they asked. “Would you prefer me be someone else? Perhaps your mother. Or your father? Your uncle? Your other brother?”

“Uhg. No. Duncan’s fine. Okay, three, how long have we been here?”

“Two hours.”

“Bull shit,” Desmond said.

“I don’t understand that phrase.”

“Really? Just two hours?”

“This place runs on a different time than where you came from. It has felt like decades, but it’s been a very short amount of time for those on the other side of the gate.”

“I don’t _feel_ decades older,” Desmond said, he still looked twenty five (give or take depending on if he wanted to count those years held prisoner), he looked down just to make sure he suddenly didn’t look old.

“Because you’ve only been here two hours. Time is a variable. It feels like decades to your mind, but it’s only been a short time to your body.”

“…Okay. How is that possible?”

“It involves quite a bit of nuclear and quantum physics-

“Never mind. I don’t care enough,” Desmond said, Lucy giggled behind him. He looked back at her, “What? I’m not getting any younger,” he told her ruefully. He looked back at Duncan, “Okay, four. If this is proeathan Ragnarok why did the proeathans build this if they knew it was their doom?”

“They didn’t.”

“…What?”

“The proeathans were the first sentient life forms to evolve on this planet. But they were not the first ones to colonize it.”

“What does that mean? Please don’t say aliens.”

“Extra terrestrials-

“I _told_ you not to say aliens,” Desmond groaned. “Can you believe this?” he asked Lucy.

“I’ve heard weirder,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Well I can remember my own death, so yes.”

“Mmm, good point,” he agreed and looked back at Duncan. “Explain.”

“They were gone by the time the proeathans were fully evolved. This was a way station if you will. I am not proeathan. I am ‘alien’. The first proeathans based their technology off my makers, and this place was made by them, not the proeathans.”

“Okay,” Desmond said. “So where do I come in? Like what _is_ a _stadalla_ anyway?”

“Their religion is based off of my makers, and this place in particular. They didn’t know what it did, but stories became legend, became myth, became religion, and all they knew was that one day, the Unnamed would come, and they would do great things. Terrible things, but great,” Duncan said. “The _stadalla_ is a construct of their religion, as I became. Whatever they say a _stadalla_ is is what you are. But what you are physically is something that can use this way station and the other facilities across the solar system. You are the Unnamed: proeathan and human and Other-

“Wait, what?” Lucy asked. “He’s not just proeathan, or human?”

“Yeah what’s the deal? You’re saying I’m some sort of even weirder genetic anomaly than I first thought?”

“No. No one is just proeathan or human. My masters left their own seeds, to help life get a firmer foot hold on this world. They didn’t know what form it would take. You all contain part of the Other, but you,” he looked at Desmond. “Are so much more than any that has been before.”

“Why did the proeathans want me so badly?”

“They’re amazingly superstitious and god fearing if there ever was any. The entire system of the proeathans work on a state of sacrifice, usually in the form of blood. Inadvertently, along with their sacrificial culture they built into their own fear, the fear of the Unnamed. Perhaps you’ve heard proeathans talk about luck?”

“Something or another. I pretended to be a faceless for a while,” Desmond shrugged.

“There is luck, and unluck. Creation and destruction. They consider you some strange combination of luck and unluck, while I am unluck,” Duncan said.

“That is so… weird,” Desmond scratched his head. “Okay.

“Go on,” Desmond said.

“If the proeathans didn’t build this place, why did your makers?”

“I told you. This planet and solar system was a way station, a stopping post to the edge of the galaxy. This place was made for weary travelers to stop, rest, refuel on whatever their ship ran on, and then continue on. This system has high amounts of most fuel components, with the added bonus of being able to sustain life. From this centrifuge,” he motioned to the chair, “my makers could control everything. It was shut down when the proeathans evolved however as only uninhabited systems were allowed to become way stations. Those that harbored intelligent life became off limits.”

“Why can only Desmond get in here and use it?” Lucy asked.

“Because of your blood, and the marks on your skin,” and they suddenly blazed brighter than before. “They are uncommon on my makers’ species but not rare either.”

“Yeah?” Desmond asked.

“Yes. They mark one as a,” and he said a word with so many syllables Desmond didn’t even know _what_ he actually said.

“A _what_?” he asked.

“A-“ and it repeated didn’t help.

“Spell it,” he said and Duncan a bunch of more words Desmond knew were character names. “Okay, never mind. Forget it. Really. So this shit,” he motioned to the geometry, “isn’t proeathan?”

“No.”

“Well that would explain why none of them knew what the hell it really was,” he agreed. “But they recognized it,” he added.

“They would. It is a map, to lead you here. They use the symbols to make maps themselves, though theirs are different from the original meanings. If you were on another world it would try to point you at the closest one of these,” he pointed at the chair.

“Well… okay, I guess that sort of makes sense. Why did they only start when I was in the Animus? Shouldn’t they have shown up before?”

“You are not Other, you are human and proeathan. I couldn’t tell you why your sigils appeared the way they did, I believe it had to do with the mass rewiring of your brain while inside inferior proeathan tech as well as the block your ancestor put upon you. It turned some switches off, and others on, activating genes and code in your DNA that haven’t been used in tens of millions of years. On a normal human it would be junk DNA, but your ‘junk’ got turned into active DNA, thus resulting in the sigils.”

“Could I have come here even without them?”

“Yes, of course. They are simply cosmetic, for my maker’s race they were a status symbol.”

“Okay…”

Lucy spoke up then, “If you’re not proeathan than why were you waiting for Desmond?”

“Because,” Duncan said, “when a way station is abandoned it falls into the hands of the next race to come in contact with it. The proeathans were that race and I began following their evolution and religion as I was designed to do. I became what they needed me to become, and so I became this, waiting for their destruction.”

“Then why can’t a proeathan enter?” Desmond asked.

“Because their destruction was not proeathan,” Duncan said simply. “It is you. Human, proeathan, and Other.”

“And synthetics?”

“Non sentient life forms are overlooked. Animals can enter as they please, synthetic or otherwise.”

Well that explains it,” Lucy said.

“Huh?” he turned back and looked at her.

“I don’t think his makers ever _made_ sentient forms of synthetics. They were animals, pets and stuff. That doesn’t explain why you register me as a viable life form,” she squinted at Duncan.

“I realize you were here with Seventeen and changed my parameters to accept you as a sentient to better manipulate time around you. If I did not you’d have died long ago from the feeling of the passage of time,” Duncan said. “But it isn’t my intention to drive the new _stadalla_ mad.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Desmond groaned, “Someone who doesn’t want to fuck me up.”

“What about non _stadalla_ and synths? Like other humans or proeathans?” Lucy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well proeathans and, I assume, humans have entered this place. What do you do to them?”

“Wait for them to leave. Depending on how rude they were I age them greatly so they die shortly after.”

“And what’s this place look like to them?”

“As you see now. Minus this dais,” he nodded at the dais. “Nothing short of a-“ that long and complicated alien word fell out of his mouth again, “-can come and use this place.”

“What about other… facilities I guess?”

“They are lesser facilities and can be accessed by those who understand how to open them.”

“Like the one in the Pacific on the atoll?” Lucy asked.

“The very same.”

“What about the one at Toba.”

Duncan frowned. “That was… unfortunate. It was not an insignificant facility.”

“What was it for?” Desmond asked.

“It was an energy converting facility. Basically it allowed batteries to be charged via either lightning strikes or core temperatures. It was a large facility for this world but very delicate. I did not appreciate when Eve blew it up,” he sighed. “I reprimanded both of her sons when they showed up.”

“…. _Excuse me_?” Desmond asked. “Eve’s kids came here?”

“Of course, they were-“ the long alien word again. “They had access to it same as you do. They were brats,” he added.

“What did she do?” Lucy asked.

“She overloaded the mechanisms. Doing so caused a massive overheat and blew up the facility as well as set off a massive EMP. I’m fortunate it didn’t travel too far. As it was I only managed to preserve a few facilities around the globe. Most of them were fried because of it along with nearly the entire proeathan civilization.”

“Holy shit,” Desmond said.

“Do you require more answers from me? Or may we begin?”

“I got a few more,” Lucy said. “This, all this we just experienced, Desmond doing all that stuff. Was that _real_?”

“It depends on your qualification of ‘reality’,” Duncan said. “If reality is everything that you can see, taste, hear, and touch, then yes, it is real. If you qualify reality as something else, then no, it is not real.”

“But I mean did we just imagine that? Like are we laying somewhere right now hallucinating all of this or what?”

“I assure you, you are standing right here, before me.”

“And you? Are you real?”

“I am as real as the other AI you have encountered. Perhaps even more so.”

“So what you’re saying is reality is only as real as we accept it to be,” Lucy said. Honestly all of this was going over Desmond’s head.

“That is all reality ever is,” Duncan said. “You are made up of a billion billion billion atoms. None of them touch anything else. Your reality is that you can feel and touch and understand the world regardless of being made of these atoms that do not understand these things. But shift the atoms around a little and something else comes forth. Reality is relative. But you do exist in this space, in this time, as you are.”

“So these clothes we have on, they’ll come with us if and when we leave?”

“They are your reality,” Duncan said.

“Holy shit,” she whispered and then looked at Desmond.

“Great,” Desmond rolled his eyes. “I just became a fashion designer for life.”

“Don’t act so upset you get to dress me in hot clothes!” she cried and shoved him a bit playfully.

Desmond just grinned at her. “Yeah.” He looked back at Duncan, “So I guess we come to the crux then. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Anything you want,” Duncan said.

“Like… anything?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible?”

“I believe you people have a saying. At a certain level science and magic become indistinguishable? As you have seen first hand these past two hours. ”

“That’s fair,” Desmond said.

“Then I shall save you the long answer and simply say: magic.”

Desmond sighed. “Okay. I guess. What now?”

“I know what you’re here for, what the proeathans saw that made then fear the Unnamed so greatly.”

“Yeah, and what was that?”

“They thought the ‘Cataclysm’ was the work of the Seventeenth. It was not. You could destroy them, you could save them, you could do whatever you needed to do.”

Desmond looked back at Lucy, “I need to put it right,” he said, looking at her. She smiled, “I need it to be safe.”

“Then you can make it so,” Duncan said. “Come. I’ll show you,” and he showed Desmond the chair. It was curved and when Desmond sat on it it formed to his body.

“Okay, now what?”

“Just, relax,” Duncan said gently. “Perhaps it would help if you closed your eyes?” Desmond did so.

“I’m not going to die am I?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled. “Now, we begin,” and Desmond felt like he was falling.


	97. Free as a Bird

Desmond opened his eyes. He felt his mouth fall open. "Woah," he said in awe at what lay before him. It was the Earth. A magnificent blue and green orb decorated with a lace pattern-work of clouds. Surrounding it was a tapestry of velvety blackness dotted with stars. He'd seen photos like this in Time or National Geographic but it didn't compare. It spun so slowly and serenely. The war humans and proeathans had going on below was a fraction to the Earth. Slowly his hand came up and covered his mouth. He'd never seen something so wonderful. He couldn't look away. He was enrapt by the sight of it and couldn't pull his gaze away. He wasn't even sure he blinked.

"Are you alright?" he jumped at the sound of Duncan's voice. "Seventeen?"

"I… yeah?" he wasn't sure. He wiped his eyes. He'd been crying. "It's just… so beautiful."

"Hmm, yes, I suppose it is. This is what it always looks like to me," he said thoughtfully.

Desmond sniffed and pulled himself together, "W-where are we?"

"Oh, we're on Earth's satellite," Duncan said candidly. "That is where the way station is, it's located under the crust."

He had his composure back and Desmond did his best not to look at the planet. It was so hypnotizing and Desmond's eyes felt drawn to it. He just looked at the stupid AI that looked like his brother. "I would ask if you're kidding me but I don't think you even know what a joke is."

"I know what one is. I don't think I can make one," Duncan said in a thoughtful tone.

Desmond took a deep breath. "Okay. So. The moon," he looked around and sure enough, he was standing on the desolate, astroid beaten, surface of Earth's moon. "I'm just… standing on the moon. Which should be impossible. There's no air on the moon."

"Well, you aren't  _really_  on the moon. I just thought it was an appropriate exercise to demonstrate the power you possess. I don't bring most  _stadalla_  out here. I worried about them too much. They were too violent, too unbalanced to use the interface. I learned early that when Earthlings think themselves gods they go a bit mad."

"You don't think I'll go mad?" Desmond asked.

"No. You've gone mad already, and come back. I don't fear what you may do."

"Could you stop me if I did?"

"Not directly but I am designed to preserve life on this planet from those who can use me since the facilities on the Earth can completely wipe out all life on it. I'd just force you back into your body. What you are here is a projection of your mind, which exists as an understanding of your own body, thus why you look like yourself here. But you aren't really on the surface of the moon. You're safe in the way station with the synth-

"She has a  _name_ ," Desmond growled.

"Irrelevant."

"My brother didn't piss me off nearly as much as you have in the last five minutes you know?"

"Not that you got to experience," Duncan shrugged at him.

Desmond huffed at him and looked back at the Earth. It was just so humbling to see it like this. "The other  _stadalla_  you didn't show this. What did you do with them?"

"The ones I felt were stable enough to return to the world I allowed them to explore the nature of their abilities. When they were capable they left and I didn't stop them."

"So you've killed would-be  _stadalla_?"

"Oh yes. Dozens. I feared too much what would happen if I allowed them to use the way station."

"Who did?"

"A few. Most didn't understand it. I was too advanced and they too unadvanced. They saw me as other things to test themselves, to train themselves."

"Do you regret letting any of them leave?"

"Mmm. The first one. I was new too. He went mad with power and is why all this hardship started between you people. I didn't understand how horrible Earthlings could be."

"We aren't all horrible," Desmond said.

"I know. It is something I learned. It depends on the species really. I had the best success with the hybrids or mothers."

"You ever know Eve?"

"No, just her sons. She was really quite awful. I scolded them both very thoroughly for what their mother did. It didn't matter of course but it made  _me_  feel better."

"That's… pretty human of you for an AI," Desmond said, looking at the hologram, or mind projection, or whatever the fuck he was seeing that looked like his dead brother.

"I am human, and proeathan," Duncan said. "Now then. You said you wanted to fix things. I think you have a lot of work ahead of you and shouldn't waste your time with me. Unlike in the way station time actually flows as normally when you're in the 'real world'."

"And what about Lucy, will she be okay?"

"I will keep her alive," Duncan said.

"And what about this god-like power. How god-like are we talking?"

"Short of reviving the dead and dramatic changes to the planet's surface."

"Wow. That  _is_  pretty god-like."

"The latter used to be feasible. But then Eve went and blew it all up," he sighed.

"Okay. So… how do I drive this thing?" he kept having to tear his eyes away from Earth spinning out in space.

"What?"

"How do I control this whole mind projection thing?"

"The same way you did the way station. It is an extension of your will, your power."

Desmond nodded. That made sense. Well, he needed to go check on the others. He squinted and then in an instant he was off the moon and in Atlantis. It was still pouring and the battlefield even two hours passed was absolute pandemonium. He could hear so much gunfire and yelling and mortars and numia fire. Desmond had found the others in a bombed out building. The Adjatevs were in full-scale bombardment and were firing from their numia and any offshore ships onto the city with the biggest missiles and shells they had. Altair and Ezio were alive still but Ezio was bleeding heavily from his face while he kept a lookout, Hawk had a broken arm that Altair was trying to set correctly even while the small man was using a small glass tablet. Off to the side was Jake laying on his back. His entire chest cavity was just an open wound and it looked like they'd tried to stuff most of his organs back inside to help him Wake sooner. There were no signs of their Ilythian friends, the angels, or Cain. They all looked  _exhausted_. He'd never seen his ancestors look tired before.

"Hawk stop fiddling with that bullshit and lay still," Altair ordered.

"I'm keeping everyone up to date with information, my arm will have to fucking deal with it," Hawk snapped back.

"Can they see me, hear me?" Desmond asked Duncan.

"Only if you want them to," Duncan said.

"Well, I do-

"Holy shit!" Hawk jumped back and then Altair slapped his gauntlet covered hand over Hawk's mouth before he could make another noise when Desmond suddenly appeared before them.

"What the fuck?" Altair asked.

"What's going on back there?" Ezio called from where he was peering around their lookout corner, cradling a rifle in his arms.

"Desmond— What are you doing here?"

"Where the fuck's your shirt, Little Bird?" Hawk asked.

"My shirt?" Desmond looked down. He was  _still_  shirtless. "Fucking AI and always making me strip," he grumbled and made a shirt appear on his body.

"Where have you been? What's going on? Where are you? Is everything alright?" Altair asked in rapid fire.

"Yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine," Desmond said slowly. "You all really need to calm down a little," as he said that he knew his eyes turned black and he offered them a feeling of ease. He'd never had empathetic powers before. It was a new experience. He watched Altair and Hawk both breathe a relaxed sigh. "What's going on?"

"Well, the Adjatevs are trying real hard to murder all of us. They're blowing the entire place to hell and back," Hawk said. "I broke my arm, Crow over there is dead as dicks. For a while anyway."

"What about you? How are you here? You look… great," Altair said.

"I'm inside the Unnamed right now. It's complicated. I'll explain it later. Short form is I kinda have kinda god-like powers right now, so there's that-

"What? How?" Hawk asked.

"I said I'll explain later," Desmond shushed him.

"Guys, what's going on back there?" Ezio called.

"Just keep an eye out," Altair called back.

"I think that's what we should start with," Desmond said to himself. "You guys stay here, I'll be back in a moment," and he walked into the rain. The rain went right through him. "Okay, enough of that," he waved his hand and the sky became clear in seconds. The stars twinkled above. Around him were the dead of both sides and he could still see storks and soldiers and close by was the Unnamed. "What are they doing?" Desmond cocked his head at the Unnamed where the Adjatevs seemed to be trying to shoot it.

"Trying to damage me," Duncan said.

"Yeah, that's not gonna fly either," Desmond flicked his hand and all the soldiers and storks were sent flying. He didn't let any of the actual people get hurt though. He constructed a force field around it. "And those numia, I'm done with them too," and he grounded them all, even the ones on his side. He didn't crash them. He just put them all on the ground and killed the engines. "And we're done with this," he gave a little lift of his hand and every gun or weapon in Atlantis were pulled out of hands or holsters of humans or proeathans and on the ground or attached to a machine flew up and into a huge mass of metal above the Unnamed and he crushed them into a huge ball and let it rest delicately on the top of the arch. With the same thought he also disabled any storks or tanks around.

"Holy fuck," he head Ezio say behind him.

Desmond looked back at him. "Yeah, like I said; god-like powers."

"HOLY FUCK!" Ezio yelled. Desmond walked back to the destroyed building. As he did he touched Ezio's face gently and the wound closed up. Hawk and Altair had scrambled over to the entrance at Ezio's yell. "How did you do that?" Ezio asked, open-mouthed.

"I told you: god-like powers. I'll explain later. Hawk, give me your arm," he ordered. Hawk offered it immediately. He looked so disgustingly interested in what Desmond could do, how he just  _did_  things. Desmond put his hand on Hawk's broken arm. It took more time than Ezio's face, an entire minute, but he did heal Hawk's arm as good as new.

"Wow," Hawk breathed, moving his arm around to make sure he had full range of motion.

"So I can safely say that the fighting is over now," Desmond said. "I took all their weapons, disabled all their toys."

"They'll still fistfight," Altair said.

"No. I'm pretty sure all the proeathans are busy cowering right now because their new god just showed up," Desmond shrugged.

"Can you help Jake?" Altair asked.

"Mmm. I don't know. He's dead, technically, and I can't bring back the dead," Desmond said thoughtfully. "Just a sec," he faded from them being able to see and hear him. Duncan was just beyond their ability to perceive. "Can I help Jake?"

"From your memories it might be possible but I make no guarantee without seeing the state of his mind and body first hand."

"Right." He went back to their ability to see. "Maybe. I'll look into it. What about you guys? You want some help too?"

"You've done quite a bit," Altair said. The three of them were honestly just sort of staring at him like they'd never seen him before. Desmond wasn't sure he liked that sort of attention. No wonder people went mad with power when they were given the power of the  _stadalla._ You were literally a god and could do awesome things. Of course, Duncan said he only gave this level of power to those he deemed worthy. Even without the power of the Unnamed Desmond knew he was infinitely more powerful than he'd been before. He could do amazing, horrible, things on his own but with the Unnamed it was magnified a thousand-fold.

"Do you want to be mortal?" he asked them.

There was a very long, pregnant, silence. "Can you do that?" Altair asked softly.

"I… don't know actually. Not unless I try. Who wants to be the guinea pig?" Desmond asked. The three looked between themselves but no answer was forthcoming. "What? I thought you guys would be all for ending it?"

"It isn't that," Ezio said. "It's more," he sighed, "We're all sort of resigned to this lot we have. We know we won't die. But this…"

"Hope is a double-edged sword," Altair said. "I couldn't," he admitted.

"Or me," Ezio said softly. "I don't  _want_  hope," he sounded broken.

"Do me," Hawk said.

"Hmm?" Desmond looked at him.

"I don't care. I feel nothing," Hawk said. "Try to  _fix_  me, Desmond," and Hawk was clearly begging in the only way Hawk could do so. Desmond frowned sadly at his ancestor and he remembered the conversation they'd had a long time ago, about the hole in the shape of an Apple in them. Desmond was started to fill his again, Lucy did that. Hawk didn't have that. He was still empty. He wanted to be better, to be fixed, to not have that hole, not have the hole be all he had.

"Okay. I'll try," he said gently and reached his hand out to Hawk. Hawk reached out to touch him but his fingers went right through him. Didn't matter.

Desmond was inside a white room. Or that was how he perceived it at least. It was very white. Very sterile. It was uncomfortable in a way Desmond didn't know how to describe. It was painful to look at for too long. There was just… nothing. No one. Nobody. It was like the inside of a vessel.

"Duncan?" he called uneasily.

"I'm always here," Duncan said, standing off to the side neatly as if he'd always been there.

"Where are we?"

"Inside of Micheal's mind," he said. "He's horribly tainted by that proeathan technology," Duncan frowned.

"It's so… vast, so empty," he said sadly.

"He is empty," Duncan sounded remorseful as well.

"Well, let's do this then," and Desmond turned. He was surprised when he turned around and saw a cage. That  _definitely_  wasn't there before. It was surprisingly large and made of golden Apple light that fractured when you looked at it and wavered at the edges. It was large enough for a man to lay down in but not stand up fully. Desmond walked over to the cage and leaned over, looking inside. There was a man curled up, asleep, inside. His brown hair was tossed across his face and he looked like he'd just collapsed on the spot. "Hello," Desmond called. They didn't wake. "What am I looking at Duncan?" he asked.

"Micheal," Duncan said softly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"What you see," Duncan gestured to the vast emptiness, "is who you call Hawk. A being corrupted by proeathan tech called an Apple. But Hawk is not a true self, it is an infestation.  _That_  is the true self, Micheal, and who he was before the Apple destroyed him."

"Woah. Seriously? I had no idea. I thought Hawk was Hawk."

"No," Duncan frowned. "It truly is sad what the proeathans did to your kind. So much potential. Wasted on jealousy."

"Is that why you allowed some of them to burn the world?"

"When the sane ones came to me crying blood because of what had befallen them I couldn't help but be compassionate. I am to oversee the world, Earth is as much my home as it is yours. It pained me sometimes. So I let their anger level the playing field. It was what the proeathans wanted anyway. They wanted destruction; I let them have it."

"How do I help?"

"Hmmm," Duncan thought. He must have been doing things Desmond couldn't. "You need to open the cage."

"How?"

"Well, you are a projection of your own mind. Thus anything you do with this body is your mind willing it. So just break it I suppose. Your mind is much stronger and greater than this one."

"Okay," Desmond said slowly. How did he break it? Well, what if he just bent the bars?

He grabbed the bars. They were warm to his touch and he felt them start to heat up violently in his grasp. "Don't be annoying," he growled and gave a firm pull. He felt them wobble but didn't come loose. With another yank he ripped the light bar clear off. It fizzled out in his hand but the cage remained. He tore off another bar and could reach inside. "I do not advise going into that cage. It is unstable," Duncan said even as Desmond put his head inside.

He grabbed Micheal and shook him. "Mike. Mike. Wake the fuck up."

"Please remove yourself from that cage or I will kick you," Duncan threatened.

"I hear ya," Desmond growled. He smacked Micheal and the man woke with a start.

"Huh? What? What? Where am I?"

Desmond was hauled out of the cage. "I told you," Duncan told him sternly, shaking a finger at him.

Desmond rubbed his head. "You sure you aren't actually my brother here to give me a hard time?" he groaned. His head did hurt.

"You've come a very long way and I'd rather you not die right now. It would be very unfortunate and the world would suffer for it. Not to mention the synth woman would be very angry with me," Duncan scolded him.

"Right," Desmond sighed and rolled onto the balls of his feet. He shook his head a bit. "Hey, you're Micheal right?" he asked into the cage where Micheal was just sort of pushing himself up and looking around. He had the same look someone had when they took a nap that started when it was light and woke up when it was dark out and you weren't sure where you were, who you were, or when you were.

"Yeah?" Micheal asked hesitantly, turning to him. "Who are you? Where am I?" His brown eyes were so wide, staring at Desmond.

Desmond grinned at him, "I'm your grandson. You've been asleep a long time you know."

"Grandson? I don't even have  _a_  son."

"Why don't you come out here and I'll explain everything?" he offered Micheal his hand but at seeing Duncan's stern look didn't put it inside the cage.

"Oh… I don't know if I can. Can I go outside?"

"Yeah. You can. Don't worry. I'll protect you."

"I think that should be my line if you're my grandson," Micheal said. It occurred to Desmond that Micheal… didn't have a Boston accent. He just had a normal accent for the time. It was vaguely Southern and pleasant to listen to honestly.

"C'mon," Desmond encouraged. "I can't do it for you unless you let me help you. Just take my hand."

Very slowly Micheal reached out and grasped Desmond's hand. His flesh was warm, his fingers with all the right callouses of someone who held swords and knives for a living. Desmond stood up and slowly pulled Micheal out of the cage of light. As he left it the cage dissolved behind him. "Oh… well, that was strange. Who are you? Where am I?"

"That's the Little Bird," said Micheal's voice with a Boston accent. Desmond turned around and there was Hawk in street clothes, his hair in a loose, long, ponytail.

"Who're you?" Micheal asked.

"I'm you, dip shit."

"I beg your pardon?" Micheal sounded like he'd been gravely wounded.

"Oh, this'll be fun," Hawk said sarcastically.

"You did ask," Desmond said. "I only delivered you… to yourself, I guess. Or something. I don't know. I'm just making shit up really," Desmond confessed.

Hawk chuckled. "It's okay," he said and looked at Desmond. His eyes were shining, he was smiling. A real smile. "Thank you." He looked at Micheal. "I've been looking for you for a long time. Where the hell have you been?" he asked with the same tone as an upset father whose child was late for curfew.

"I don't know. I've been asleep. Who are  _you_?"

"I told you. I'm you. We have  _a lot_  to catch up on so neither of us completely loses their marbles."

"What does that mean?" Micheal asked.

Hawk just sighed, "I'm going to become retarded from this," he said. Then he looked at Desmond, "Thanks, kid," he said.

"Now to see if I can switch off your immortality."

"You do that and I might just kiss you," Hawk laughed his fake laugh that sounded so real. In here the fakeness was a lot more obvious.

"Watch it, Lucy'll punch you."

"I'll keep it in mind. See what you can do, I'll take the idiotic lump off your hands," and he held out his hand to Micheal. Desmond let him go and prodded Micheal over to him. They grasped hands and Desmond watched them become light and vanish.

"Okay, so one problem taken care of. Let's figure out this immortality thing," Desmond said once he and Duncan were alone.

"Immortality is easy," Duncan said, "but, I've scanned your memories and his for how these men work. I'm not sure it is possible to fix them."

"What? But you said-

"Yes, I know. It isn't that you couldn't. But doing so would kill you yourself. I cannot allow that."

Desmond frowned, "So I can help them, but only by sacrificing myself."

"One," Duncan said. "You could help  _one_  of them. Would you really make them chose who would become mortal?" he asked.

"If they knew what would happen to me, they'd never go for it," Desmond was looking at the White Room around them. It was starting to take on colors which were slowly seeping in at the edges. "And, I don't want to die," he added.

"Then it is impossible. You could turn their aging gene back on, but then they'd get old, die, and then come back, old again."

"Yeah, let's  _not_  do that," Desmond grimaced. "Well that, sort of sucks," he frowned.

"You could fix Clay," Duncan said helpfully. "Whatever it is that makes these men be endlessly healed he doesn't have. All that he has is the aging gene turned off."

"Hmmm, that's fair I guess," Desmond said. Then he was back outside of Hawk's body. Or Micheal's body. He wasn't quite sure what was going on now for them. Would it be like Jake? But Jake was actually two people. Hawk was one person with two personalities that were the same person. He'd let Hawk figure it out. Really that went to the back of his mind when he realized he'd come back to the strangest scene. Altair was  _hugging_  Hawk, holding him close to his chest and shushing him gently while the younger man sobbed loudly into his chest. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Whatever you did," Ezio said, "You fixed him."

"Well, only partially," Desmond admitted. "I can't make you mortal," he apologized.

"Why?" Ezio looked like he both did and didn't want to know.

"Doing so would fry me out. To make just one of you mortal I'd kill myself."

"Not happening," Altair growled. "Not after all that time we spent keeping you alive."

Desmond laughed, "Yeah, I figured that. Well, I did try."

"We know. Thank you," Altair said. But he hadn't helped. What a useless feeling that was. "And can you help Jake along? We don't have any adrenaline around. We haven't seen or heard from a medic in an hour."

"I'll see what I can do," Desmond said and went over to his friend.

Other than the horrific gore that was his gut Jake looked like he was sleeping. He leaned down and reached out to him. His fingers passed through his forehead and he wasn't there. He was gone again and back in another White Room, sort of. This one was also full of color and smells so intense it actually hurt Desmond's senses. "What the hell," he groaned.

"This is what a normal, healthy, mind looks like," Duncan supplied. "Though it's a bit cramped. Your head is much the same, you'd probably be unable to stand the state of your own mind."

"Thanks, knew that already," Desmond squinted in the bright light and colors, the scents of incense and some smell he couldn't place were overpowering. Then, all at once, he wasn't there, but he wasn't doing anything either, he was trying to get himself in order still. The intensity receded a bit and he found himself… well shit, this was the lattice covered garden in Jerusalem. He blinked in surprise and quickly looked down at himself, just to make sure. He wasn't Altair, he was decidedly still himself. Then he looked up again. "Hi," he said to the two men relaxing in the garden.

"What're you doing here?" Jacob asked, looking freakishly out of place next to Malik who wasn't wearing clothes he was familiar with. They looked more like Mentor robes than Dai robes. Jacob was in jeans and shirt.

"Uh-" They both rose a brow, the same brow, at him. "Well, that's freaky. Stop that."

"You're the freaky one here. What are you doing here?" Malik demanded and damn if that didn't scare the shit out of Desmond just a little.

"Well, right now, you're Under, and I'm inside your head. Crazy science-magic thing on the moon, don't ask I don't really know how to explain."

"Why am I not surprised you-" they asked at the same time, "novice?" "idiot?" just the suffix was different. Good god, it was worse when there was two of them.

"Now what do you want?" Jacob asked again.

"I wanted to know if I could help," Desmond said. "I just was inside Hawk's head, can't make you mortal again, but maybe I could get rid of him," he pointed at Malik. "You don't belong here," he said.

"Would you get rid of Altair and Ezio in yours?" Jacob asked.

"Huh?"

"Would you?" he asked again.

"… No," he said. "I mean, I guess not. I'm kinda… used to it."

"Same," Jacob said. He looked at Malik, "I'd miss him. He's seriously the only one of these old guys who isn't fucking crazy."

"Thank you, Jacob," Malik said.

"Not to mention I think Altair would break if he had to deal with this whole…  _situation_  again," Jacob motioned to himself and Malik. "We barely got him accustomed to the both of us he'd be a hot mess if suddenly we were different again."

"I guess that's fair," Desmond said. "I'm going to try and make you Wake up faster too. Make sure you're ready for whatever the hell is happening out there."

"What is happening out there?"

"Well. So far I've stopped all the fighting on Atlantis and made Hawk a normal person again, so that'll be interesting.

"Mmm," Malik nodded.

"Just, no big deal. Stopped a literal species-wide blood feud," Jacob said sarcastically.

"If you could see what I could do it wouldn't surprise you," Desmond said. "I'll see what I can do about Waking you quicker," he paused and looked between the two of them. "You know… this  _really_  explains why you kept thinking me and my clone were going to make out," and he laughed disgustingly when both Jacob and Malik turned a furious red color and he was jettisoned out of the garden and back into the White Room. He closed his eyes against the brightness. "So, speeding that up?" Desmond asked Duncan.

"Possible but will require some work. You need to force the body to produce massive amounts of adrenaline without any stimulation."

"Okay. How do I do that?" The answer was projected right into Desmond's head like he'd seen Lilith do to Tommy. "Wow. Okay. That is surprisingly easy I guess." It was really only possible because the others had stuffed Jake's organs back into his body. So that was good. It didn't take long and then he was outside Jake's mind. He saw Jake's body was recovering at a much swifter rate than normal, he'd be up in a few hours, maybe a day, instead of weeks it would take to regrow most of his internal organs.

He turned back to his other ancestors, Hawk was now in Altair's lap, still sobbing into Altair's chest while Altair tried to shush him and comfort him. It was such a bizarre scene. Ezio noticed when Desmond reappeared. "So. You do it?"

"He'll be Awake soonish. I don't know how long. Shorter than usual but they really did a number on him," Desmond frowned.

"He shoved me out of the way of a tank shell," Ezio said. "I just got a shrapnel scar, he got blown up a bit," he grimaced. "Guess he thought he was less useful than I was," he frowned. "What are you going to do now?" he asked Desmond.

"Well, I got some things do I suppose," he sighed. "Keep me updated."

"How?" Ezio stared at him.

"Altair's a telepath," he pointed at Altair. "If he actually needs to get in touch with me he'll figure out a way."

"Okay," Ezio said slowly. He was way out of his depth here. "Where are you going?"

"I need to fix this. I fucked it up, so I'm gonna fix it. I'll be around. This is just my mind. I can kinda, feel everything… in the world?" it was a weird thing to explain.

"Wow," Ezio said, eyes wide. Altair was still dealing with Hawk so he didn't blame Altair for ignoring him. He could tell the ancient was listening. "Okay. Good luck. I… don't know how to help you."

Desmond smiled at them. "It's okay. You've helped me so much already. I love you guys so much. It's my turn now, to help you, and everyone else."

"Good luck,  _ibn_ ," Altair said.

"Thanks," his smile softened a bit.

"Be a good god, not a vengeful god," Ezio said like he was telling Desmond to have a good day at school. Desmond just laughed and popped out.

He reappeared above the broken, living, corpse of Daniel Cross. The poor man was struggling to crawl across the ground using only his hands to do so. "It's okay, Daniel, you don't have to do that anymore," Desmond said and took a knee in front of him. Daniel looked up at him, his face torn, bleeding, garish and full of a nightmare where he felt no pain, no joy, no nothing. He reached a clawed hand up to Desmond but didn't quite make it. With a frown Desmond passed his fingertips through Daniel's head and he was once more in Daniel's overcrowded mind. This time all the ghosts were asleep and it was just Daniel, awake.

"Are you here to kill me, Desmond?" Daniel asked.

"Yes. I am," Desmond said.

"Do it," Daniel said without hesitation

"Anything you want to say?"

"I miss my family," Daniel said sadly.

Desmond did something like he did in Hawk's mind. One by one at first and then in a great crashing wave all the ghosts evaporated. All that was left was Daniel and his parents. Daniel wasn't as Desmond had found him. Rather he was a boy. In that moment Desmond had flashed through part of his memories to find his parents and found the last time he'd ever seen them as a child. Before Abstergo had kidnapped him out of his home in a small facility that was barely more than a cell they'd torched to the ground and taken only one piece of plunder, the child of Assassins. But now they were here. "They missed you too," Desmond said.

Daniel looked up at them with wide eyes and then smiled so widely at them it looked like it hurt his face. He turned around and they leaned down to embrace him. Once they shared a moment Daniel turned back around and looked at Desmond. "My name's Sergei, you know, I wanted to live up to that before the Templars erased me."

"I'm sorry, Sergei," Desmond said.

"It's okay. I'm free now. Thank you, Desmond. I wish we could have been friends."

"Goodbye, Sergei," Desmond said. Then just like that, the mind was empty as Desmond evaporated both of Sergei's parents and the boy closed his eyes and faded away. Desmond blinked and he was back to where he was kneeling. He sighed.

"Are you alright?" Duncan asked him.

"Yeah. Shit. I didn't think that would be as heavy as it was," he cleared his throat. He looked down at Sergei's mangled body. His eyes were closed. He didn't look peaceful. He looked resigned, defeated. "I'll make sure he gets a better burial than the Templars ever gave him."

"What would you like to do now?" Duncan asked.

Before he could answer he felt a tickle in the back of his mind. "What's that?"

"I believe that is a human psychic trying to telepathically communicate with you. It's difficult without you making the connection yourself since your body is on the moon," Duncan said simply.

Desmond focused on the tickle. "Yeah?" he asked.

"You can hear me?" it was Altair.

"Yeah? I was gone for forty seconds, what happened?"

"Clay just called in. The Adjatevs moved from attacking Atlantis to attacking our camp."

"Oh. Sounds like they made a terrible mistake, then. I'll deal with it," he said coolly. Then Desmond was gone.


	98. A Fall Into Grace

More than a few things were on fire even when Desmond showed up in the cavern. There were Adjatevs in here and numia were shooting into the cave. That annoyed him. He looked around, touching each of the Adjatevs with his mind and then with hardly any effort picked them all up and flung them out of the cave, out into the ocean. He created another forcefield. As he did he realized the one he'd made around the Unnamed hadn't even budged and he wasn't even paying attention to it. He looked around and snuffed out the fires before going and inspecting the damage.

A lot of people were dead. A spike went through Desmond as a thought hit him. Where was Tommy?! Nothing else mattered then. Where was his brother?

He found him in a few seconds with a scan of everyone around. There weren't a lot of people around. Mostly those who supported the main army. Thankfully it was just a skeleton crew here other than in the communication area which took up a sizable portion of the cavern. He was in a singed barracks inside the officer sleeping area, protected from the outside by the stacks of sleeping cubicles. He was in the middle of throwing himself against the door when Desmond found him. "Hey, stop that," Desmond said. He couldn't touch Tommy but he could grab his brother psionically and stop him.

"Huh!? What? Desmond? Let me go!"

"Slow your roll lil bro-

"We're twins," he groaned.

"I'm still older than you."

"Desmond! Not the time!"

"Everything is fine. Relax. I dealt with it."

"You what? But there were so many proeathans and fire and bullets and and-

"Tommy," Desmond finally set his brother down. "Just, relax," he said soothingly and did to him what he'd done to Altair and Hawk. Tommy sagged a little. "There, that better?"

"I guess… wait. How'd you get in here?"

"I'm not really here. It's psychic stuff."

"Oh. Can I do that?"

"Uh…" Desmond glanced at where Duncan was standing behind Tommy, looking at him curiously. "I don't know honestly. Maybe?"

"Oh. Hmm. Everyone is okay out there?"

"They are now. What are you doing in here?"

"Dad put me in here and locked the door. I didn't like the idea," Tommy frowned. "What if he's hurt, Des?" Desmond couldn't find it in him to care too much but he felt bad for Tommy. Andrew was all he had. He was going to have to have a  _strongly_  worded conversation with his ancestors about how they treated Tommy.

"I'll check on him."

"Can't I come with you?"

"No."

"Why not? You said it was safe."

"Because if he's dead outside this door I don't want you to see it," Desmond said sharply.

Tommy stared up at Desmond and tears immediately came to his eyes. "You don't think he is, do you?" he asked.

Desmond felt bad again. "That's why I'm saying stay here. I'll come open it up regardless in a moment."

"Okay," Tommy blubbered. "Is Jacob okay? Is uncle John okay?"

"Jacob's fine," Desmond promised him. He specifically didn't tell Tommy about John. He didn't need Tommy crying about John when he might lose his dad in a few minutes too. That would be a hurt Desmond would save until he could let Tommy down lighter on it. "I'll go look for dad." Then before Tommy could ask more he popped out of the officer room. He sighed and looked down. Andrew was outside the door. Not right against it but fairly close. He wasn't dead yet and was struggling and failing to get up. There were two guns nearby. One was probably his, the other belonged to the proeathan Desmond had thrown out of the cavern. Desmond had probably just missed saving his father from getting mortally shot. Desmond went over to him and took a knee by his side. "Hey, Andrew," he said.

"You're alive then?"

"More than I can say for you?"

"Where's your brother?" he coughed. He was bleeding pretty badly. He wasn't coughing up blood at least.

"He's safe," Desmond said. Desmond knew he could heal Andrew but he didn't know if the man deserved it. "I could save you," he said. "I dunno if I should."

"Don't be an ass, Desmond," Andrew growled.

"Not so much a petty thing. I don't know if what the world will become needs men like you, Andrew. The Assassins and Templars don't belong. The war they have doesn't exist anymore. Their ideals don't matter and only put a stranglehold on our development. You and the other Assassins and Templars aren't for the new world, you're all too stuck in the past with old ideas and old grudges."

"You're really going to let your father die?" Andrew asked.

"It's for the greater good, I think. That's what you told me once, right?" Desmond said calmly and Andrew looked away shamefully. He knew Desmond had a point, a better point than he'd ever had. He spoke only to Duncan, 'Let him see you.'

'Humans never cease to confuse me, honestly,' Duncan said and did as Desmond asked of him.

"If that's how you really feel about your old man," Andrew swallowed and looked up. He looked at Desmond and noticed someone standing on his other side. Andrew's grey-blue eyes widened. "Duncan?" he asked with more emotion than Desmond had ever heard him. He lifted his hand up a little as if he wanted to touch Duncan than thought better of it and clenched his fingers into a fist and put it down. "Are you seeing this?" he asked Desmond.

"Seeing what?" Desmond asked.

Andrew looked away sharply, tears streaming down his face already. "Nothing," he said. "Just lost too much blood I guess. Maybe you're right."

"Shockingly, I'm right a lot. I'm sorry though. You aren't for this new world, dad," Desmond said. "But I'm not cruel like you," he opened the door of the officer room. Tommy busted out looking for him and Andrew. He saw Desmond kneeling next to their father and ran over.

"Dad. Dad. Are you okay?" He crashed down next to their dad on his knees and grabbed at him but wasn't sure what to do, where to help, what to hold.

"No," Andrew shook his head. He was crying but smiling anyway. He reached up and held Tommy's face in one bloody hand. "I'm not alright, my boy. But it's okay."

"What? No. It isn't. I can heal you," Tommy insisted. "Or Desmond- Des, you can heal him," he looked at Desmond desperately.

"Not this," Desmond said calmly. "It's too much, even for me," he lied.

"How are you okay with that?" Tommy demanded.

Desmond sighed, looked away. "It's okay, Tommy. It'll be okay," Andrew said gently.

"No, it isn't. You're dying." Desmond felt Tommy trying to heal Andrew but he didn't let him. Desmond just kept the right amount of pressure on Andrew's body so that no matter what Tommy did he couldn't save him. It was cruel but had to be done. It brought Desmond no joy either. "I can't," Tommy sobbed. "I don't want you to go."

'Seventeen, should I be doing something?' Duncan asked in his head.

'Only if you want to,' Desmond said.

"He'll be with me, it'll be okay," Duncan said which surprised Desmond. By the AI's own admission he didn't understand humans. But he also had told Desmond several times how he was the caretaker of this world and probably all worlds in the solar system. If Desmond could focus on things on such a granular level like this he could too.

"What?" Tommy wiped his eyes and looked up at where Duncan was standing. "Who're you? What are you?"

"You see him too?" Andrew asked Tommy. Then he looked at Desmond. "And you?"

"Why don't you tell him who it is," Desmond said calmly, staring Andrew down.

"Tell me what?" Tommy asked.

Andrew looked away from Desmond back at Tommy who looked so confused. "There are three Miles boys," Andrew said. He shifted a bit on the ground. Desmond was keeping him alive now. He should have expired already, especially after him and Tommy having a tug of war to keep him alive and just alive enough. Once he stopped supporting him Andrew would fade. Like Desmond said, he wasn't cruel. Not needlessly. This wasn't for him. This was for Tommy. He needed this closure. Fuck, at least one of them better. "I don't know really what that is-

"Remember I threatened to haunt you as a Force ghost? It's basically a Force ghost," Desmond said.

" _Whatever_ ," Andrew growled. "But that's your brother. Your older brother; Duncan."

"What? He looks like a teenager," Tommy said, looking up, not understanding.

"Because when he was sixteen he killed himself," Desmond said.

"Desmond, no need to be so crass," Andrew huffed.

"That's what happened," Desmond said.

"So that's… but… you told me it was just me and Des," Tommy said.

"We thought it'd be easier. Duncan's death wasn't easy for any of us," Andrew looked at Desmond who stared back unmoving.

Tommy looked back up at Duncan. "Des isn't lying about you being a ghost is he?"

"I am dead," Duncan said, "reality is what you think it is."

"I feel like that was really smart and I'm too dumb to understand it," Tommy said. He looked back down at Andrew. "I don't remember though. I just know you and Des," he grabbed Andrew's hand in both of his.

"I know," Andrew said.

"I don't want you to go," Tommy said.

"I know," Andrew nodded a little. "But I think… it's better this way."

"How?" Tommy demanded.

"Because I've done a lot of bad things son. A lot of things. Things you don't remember. That I hope you never remember," Andrew glanced up at Desmond and Duncan who were looking down at him like masks of judgment. "Your brother is gonna do amazing things. So are you. You don't need an old guy like me, stuck in the past, getting in your way."

"But I'll miss you," Tommy said, crying openly but not sobbing.

"I know," Andrew said with a pained smile. "But you've got Desmond. He'll take care of you until you can take care of yourself again." Tommy nodded mutely. Andrew looked over at Desmond. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I know," Desmond said.

Andrew looked up at Duncan. "I'm so sorry," and halfway through that he broke put his other bloody hand over his face and sobbed. A horrible wrenching sound that not even Desmond was immune to. "I didn't want you to die, son. I know I wasn't a good father. I'm so sorry. I would do it all different if I could. You didn't deserve it. No one did," he was just sobbing into his hand now, his face a mask of anguish.

Duncan took a knee on Andrew's other side, opposite Desmond. Tommy's eyes were still leaking as he held Andrew's hand. He'd never seen their father like this. Neither had Desmond. It was sobering. He didn't cry. "Did you try, at least?" Duncan asked Andrew. "Or did you just think of yourself?" Desmond knew Duncan knew all of his memories. He'd seen all the shit Andrew had done to him and Duncan growing up, or rather lack of shit he'd done for them.

Andrew wiped his face, leaving behind blood streaks on his skin and beard. He looked up at Duncan. "I did try. And when I failed… I did just start thinking of myself. I'm sorry I was a terrible father," he looked at Desmond, then at Tommy, then back at Desmond, "to all of you. I wish I could have done it different. I would."

"Do better next time," Duncan said, but not cruelly.

Andrew looked away from them, biting his lips, tears still streaming down his face. Desmond reached out and made the air hard under his palm so he could simulate grabbing his father by the shoulder. Andrew looked at him. "I forgive you," he lied. He'd lie for a dead man. What did it matter?

"I forgive you," Duncan mimicked him.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said again. "I'm so sorry for the both of you. I loved you so much. I wish I'd been better. I'm sorry." Desmond released the pressure he was keeping on Andrew to keep him alive. He'd fade quickly now. Andrew knew immediately that he was dying again and looked at Tommy. "I love you too, don't forget that."

"I love you too," Tommy said and hugged Andrew tightly. Andrew used his last energy to return the embrace.

"Goodnight, dad," Desmond said softly. A few seconds later his grip on Tommy loosened and Tommy was just sobbing into his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Duncan asked and Desmond knew Tommy couldn't hear him.

Desmond made sure Tommy couldn't hear him either before replying. "I'm fine. I killed him. I don't really have an emotional attachment to him anymore," he lied to Duncan.

"You can cry, if you want, Seventeen. I won't think less of you for it."

"No. But I'll think less of me for it," Desmond said. He made himself more present to Tommy. "Tommy, Tommy," he said it a few more times to get his attention.

"What?" Tommy blubbered. His face was a mess of snot and tears. Desmond wasn't a graceful cryer either. They were both too honest with their feelings. His heart clenched a little.

"Hey, it's okay," he reached out and mimed wiping his face. He wasn't actually touching his brother but did clean his face up.

"Dad's dead," Tommy sobbed.

"I know. We'll be okay. I'm still here."

"But you  _aren't_ ," he sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. I wish I could be here for real but I can't. And I… can't stay here."

"You'll leave me too?"

"Only for a little while. I'll come back. You aren't alone. Even if it feels like that now. You're never alone. You always have me," and Desmond always had him.

"Why couldn't you save him?" Tommy asked wetly.

"I tried. I just made it worse. I can do a lot of things. I can't bring back the dead and sometimes death decides that someone is dead before they really die." Tommy nodded slightly.

"Can you restore my memory?" Tommy asked. "I want to remember more," he hiccuped around his tears. "I want to remember more than a month of our dad."

"I will. But not right now. That will take time and I have a lot to do. I swear I will though."

'Seventeen, you realize there's no memory to restore-

' _Yes_ , Duncan, now shut the fuck up,' Desmond snapped back.

"When?" Tommy asked.

"How about when I've made sure the proeathans won't just kill us on sight?" Desmond said with a slightly teasing voice.

"Okay. That's fair," Tommy said sadly, looking down.

"I'll send the others for you."

"They hate me," he muttered miserably.

"No. They. Don't," Desmond with enough force like he could will it into existence. He was  _absolutely_  having a strongly worded conversation with the others. "If I leave you alone for a bit will you be okay?"

"Maybe?"

"Just stay here, I'll be right back."

Desmond found Clay in the central communication area. He and his people were still freaking out about what had happened and what was going on. "Everyone, stop!" Desmond cried and everyone froze and stared at him. "War's over. Go find your friends and celebrate." There was a lot of confusion about that.

"Really?" someone asked.

"Yeah. Really," Desmond said.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Angel's… associate. She stopped it."

There was talk immediately and now that they were distracted Desmond turned to Clay who was openly staring at him. "How are you here right now?" he asked.

"I'll explain later. Right now I need you to go find my brother and be with him."

"He doesn't know me," Clay said.

"He knows of you. You're the only person in this camp right now who can give a fuck at all. Andrew's also dead. Right in front of him."

"Shit," Clay rubbed his face. "Okay. I'll go find him."

"Also he might ask about my brother. Don't tell him anything damning cause I know you and I know you know," he gave Clay a look. Clay just gave him a cheeky smile.

"Only things in the best light," Clay promised. "Your father die well?"

Desmond found that a loaded question. He blinked a few times. "The only thing he's ever done well," he said, voice surprisingly thick.

"That's good enough I guess," Clay said and got up from his chair. He walked out of the command station and Desmond went back to Tommy. Tommy was still sitting by their dad, fists against his eyes, sobbing. Desmond made himself known but it didn't matter. Tommy ignored him. Clay showed up a few minutes later. He walked right over to Tommy, knelt down in front of him, pulled his hands down, and hugged him. Tommy didn't even care who it was. He just hugged Clay back. Clay looked up at Desmond. "I got him, you can go do what you need to do," he told Desmond.

"Thank you," Desmond said. Then he was gone again.


	99. A Leaf on the Wind

The room was dark when Desmond arrived. Then he was wrapped up in a bubble. He allowed Tiamat her perfect illusions. He was on a porch of an elegant, white, home made of white painted wood with a metal table and two metal chairs. On the table was a teapot and two cups both filled with a steaming brown liquid. Desmond could fully appreciate the magnitude of this sort of mental landscaping. You didn't just stumble into being able to make worlds like this. You struggled and obsessed over them for decades. Tiamat's power was not something to not be in awe of.

Tiamat was sitting in a glittering white and pink sundress, her black hair cuffed into an elegant spiral like a snail shell around her head. She was young, beautiful, elegant. "Hello," he said when he saw her.

She didn't look surprised to see him. "Hello, deary," she said with a wicked smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

"You were right," he said.

"I tend to be. What was I right about this time?" she said in a coy manner that was meant to be infuriating.

"The Unnamed, me. It really is something else."

"Did you meet Sath'ka?" she asked him.

"Who?"

"The hologram."

"Oh. He's Duncan to me."

"He? Hmm. Never occurred to me that they'd be a different gender. All our AI were gendered. He here?"

"Maybe he doesn't like you."

"Fuck you," she said, unamused. "We got along splendidly. She even let me sit in the chair. Not that I  _needed_  to. I just thought it was fun."

"I can free you now."

"Yes, you can," she said nicely.

"Should I?"

"You  _swore_ ," she hissed and the blue sky above them grew dark and clouded, threatening with fat, heavy, rain clouds.

"That was before. I'm stronger than you and you know that. I know that."

"Have some integrity. I've done nothing to you. I'm the least deserving of death of those who you deal with," she hissed, all viper venom.

"This is true," he nodded.

"I'm also not your enemy," Tiamat said. "I've helped you quite a lot honestly."

"You have," he agreed. "You erased my memories of the facility in the Pacific. Why?"

"You weren't ready for that sort of knowledge. I wasn't ready for you to know about me," she said.

"So you did it then? You really, actually, raised Atlantis from the bottom of the fucking ocean?"

"When Eve's stupid children sunk Atlantis they left it a way to come back, in case humans ever found a way to do so, or in case they changed their minds and wanted to bring it back. They took a lot of time making sure their efforts were reversible. But even if they hadn't, I am like you, I am a goddess fully formed," she leaned back in her metal chair, lacing her fingers over her flat stomach. "With the power of another god bolstering me within an amplifier I had nearly as much power as you do on the moon."

"You could have freed yourself."

"And gone where? There was no place prepared for me. There was no one who would harbor me. Chronos wouldn't have let me have peace. Even if I escaped my life would have been difficult and while I hate to admit it… I am an old woman. I need help."

"But what was so bad about me remembering you?"

"Oh you were rather terrified of me," she giggled. "I thought it better for us to meet the first time when you were more self-assured, more confident. If nothing else Kamala was useful for that, little meddling man that he is," she sucked her teeth to show her distaste.

"Who?"

"Right, he insists on going by that archaic angel word," she rolled her eyes, "Cain. What a melodramatic man."

"Oh. Yeah, that's about right," he grinned.

"Now, how are you getting me out of here?" she asked him. "Chronos won't be happy about it if you take me away."

"Why's he care so much about you? You obviously hate each other. Why not just kill you? Or let you go? Like you said, you're an old woman, you'd die on your own."

"The boy is  _obsessed_  with Eros. He was born under her star and wanted to make himself in her image as a sovereign like she did. When he found out I was a recreation of her he loathes to release me because I am everything to him. That is why he captured me in the first place and forced me to sleep for thousands of years. I would have preferred to live out my long life among you humans as the goddess I was."

"You were still an old woman," Desmond said.

"I was sprier before cryo. I could walk on my own and loved to dance. The cryo sickness won't kill me like the other proeathans but it did cripple me."

"Hmmm," Desmond nodded slowly. "Well, seems the first thing I need to do is take care of Chronos then. I'll be off then," and he shook off Tiamat's illusion like a duck shook off water. He was back in the dark room with Tiamat as she was in the comfortable chair. She was a buzzard of an old woman with sagging skin and gray hair in a disheveled mess around her head like cobwebs. A far cry from the opulent illusion she gave off. Her eyes opened and they were pitch black with a sharp circle of blue just around the pupil. "Is the illusion you what you really used to look like?" he asked her.

"Yes, deary, it was. As the daughter of Eros, I was a princess the ruling class of every nation-state desired. Now I'm an old woman in a cell. Fix that for me won't you?" she cooed.

"Yeah. My eyes look like that by the way?"

She smirked. "You're a  _stadalla_  aren't you? What do you think?"

"Right. Freaky. Good to know. I'll be back for you," and he popped up to an office high up in the tallest tower of Apollo.

There were several Adjatevs up here. He'd never seen Chronos before but he knew the man immediately. All the proeathans here were middle-aged with pale beige skin and long, flowing, black hair. They all wore draping garments almost like the AI but better fitted and not as ornately ritualistic. Chronos was sitting at the desk while several other men and women stood around it speaking to him in hurried voices of their native language. Desmond brushed one of them with his mind and their entire language was dumped into his head so he could speak it fluently. He just waited for one of them to notice him. As he did he started building the pressure behind him and conjuring a huge looming shadow that started to softly press against the minds of the proeathans as dread. After a few minutes they petered out talking and slowly turned and looked back at where Desmond was standing there. He looked unassuming in his jeans and shirt with no shoes with what  _felt_  like a shadow of a horrible monster against their minds but really there was nothing behind him.

"Hi," he said in their language and gave them a cheeky wave. The proeathans, who Desmond had guessed at this point was Chronos' Cabinet, scrambled back behind the desk. Chronos himself picked up the equivalent of a phone to call security. "No," Desmond waved his hand and the entire thing was lifted off the desk and smashed into the wall.

He walked over to the desk. Everyone scooted back as he got closer. "How did you get in here?" Chronos said. He had a deep, authoritative, voice. He was also utterly boring to look at. A doughy bureaucrat with soft hands and hard, mean, yellow eyes the color of piss.

"Is that really the question you wanna ask before I turn your head inside out?" Desmond asked right back, stopping on the other side of the desk. The Cabinet gave each other worried looks. "Even though I can think of quite a few people who would  _love_  to get their hands on you instead," he leaned against the table, grinning like a fiend. To them he was a nightmare and he was playing the part. "Or are you going to do the smart thing and grovel before your new god?"

Two of the Cabinet members immediacy dropped to the floor prostrate in worship. Desmond felt more than a little grossed out but they had done what he'd wanted so wouldn't punish them. "You don't frighten me, human," Chronos said.

"Heh. Really? Because I should," Desmond grinned. Then he jumped up onto the desk and sat on the top facing him, legs over the side, keeping Chronos seated. Desmond leaned on a thigh. "You have done the worst things in the world, Chronos. To my people, to  _your_  people. It's finally caught up with you. You've used up all your luck. You wanna repent? I might make it painless for you."

"I did the best for the world," he growled. "And you stupid monkeys don't know what's good for you. You needed to kept in line—!" He let out a wordless scream when Desmond broke his jaw. Just dislocated the entire thing so he couldn't talk.

"Man. I didn't think anyone other than my father could piss me off that fast but I'm glad to see you both tried and succeeded," Desmond said cooly. He glanced at the Cabinet. "Anyone else want to repent?"

"You're as much a monster as you claim we are. Your kind destroyed our world."

"Oh! Save me the  _sob_  story," Desmond said and the proeathan who'd spoken collapsed. He'd been kind and just disconnected their brain from the rest of their body. "Destroyed the world," he repeated in a mocking tone. "Fuck you. You enslaved, raped, and experimented on an entire species for millennia, for no reason, not to mention did your best to eradicate the rest of the proeathans that managed to hide away as well. So literally, fuck off. Anyone else? Anyone at all before I just say fuck it and decide to wash the world of you? Are  _any_  of you redeemable or am I just going to have to eat all your luck?" the words didn't make a lot of sense to him but Desmond understood their language and sayings and way they spoke. He knew that that was a very real threat.

There was some begging. He didn't listen to them. He looked right into their minds and saw that they weren't really sorry. He looked into all of them. "You're all useless to me, to this world. Shame. If you weren't so petty and jealous and hateful we could have worked something out. Goodbye." The Cabinet dropped around him and Chronos' chair, hitting the floor with dead weight thuds. It was rather nightmarish to hear so many bodies hit the floor like that simultaneously. Something out of a horror movie. Desmond shoved Chronos' jaw back into place so he could talk again. "You afraid of me now?" Desmond asked him, cocking his head to the side a little and slowly rubbing his palms together a bit menacingly. Chronos nodded slowly. "Good. So now you know how every human has felt for how long you've been on this planet.  _Fear_. You don't deserve this world, Chronos. I'm going to make sure your name and the name of the men and women around you is erased from history other than as Unlucky," and Chronos paled. How such a pale man could pale even more Desmond didn't know but he did. "Rest in pieces."

Desmond wasn't cruel but he wasn't kind. He just pulled all of Chronos' blood out through his pores. He also used the same ability Lucy had to silence to keep him from having the catharsis of listening to his own screams. He pulled all the blood out and into a dense, heavy, black, ball that fit into his palm. "Hmm," Duncan was now next to him again.

"Oh, there you went. Where were you?"

"Speaking with Tiamat. We had some catching up to do."

"She nicer to you than me?"

"Oh, she rather fancies me," Duncan said like he was commenting on the weather.

"Gross."

"She also sees me differently than you," Duncan shrugged. "I see you were busy while I was gone," he said, looking around at what Desmond had done.

"Never a dull moment with me," Desmond said and left the blood ball in Chronos' paperweight dish thing on his desk. He got off the desk and walked through Chronos' dead body back down to Tiamat. "Well, he's dead, you're free," he told her. He liked the illusion she made more than her reality. He didn't blame her for not wanting to leave the fantasy of where she was young, beautiful, and could walk and be free.

"Thank goodness. Finally." The sun overhead seemed to shine even more brightly and more wonderfully than before.

"I'll send someone to come get you. Bring you to Atlantis," Desmond said.

"Like who?"

"I have friends in the Netall nation," Desmond said. "One of their leaders. She's nice. She'll take care of you."

"And what do you plan to do now that you've killed Chronos and his Cabinet?"

Desmond said nothing. "I don't know really. I suppose I should have a plan shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea," Tiamat agreed.

"The world's just… so  _fucked_. Everything anyone, of either species, has ever known is gone. Your world is gone, but so is the human world. Proeathans covered it in ice or we bombed it to hell and back. I could bring us to an even playing field but where would that get us? Misery for a few generations? More bad feelings." He sighed. There were no easy answers.

"You don't have to reestablish the status quo, Seventeen," Duncan said. "The proeathans expect the world to undergo a great change. Most of the time that is in ideals or culture paradigm shifts. But you don't have to do that. You can change the world literally."

"I thought you said that I couldn't undertake world-changing stuff after what Eve did."

"I did but you don't have to shift continents to change the world," Duncan said. "An untapped-" long alien word, "and Tiamat rose my gateway out of the sea those pesky twins sunk me to. What can you do with your power now?"

Desmond wasn't sure. He had to think. "I don't know. I don't have to do it all right away, right?"

"No, but I wouldn't wait too long," Duncan said.

"One step at a time. I need to get Mars to send someone to retrieve Tiamat and I need to 'restore' my brother's memories." He looked at Tiamat. "How do you feel about being our grandma?"

"If I didn't like you, deary, I'd kill you where you stand," she said. That made Desmond chuckle.

"Godmother then?"

"You have placated the dragon for now," she said and Desmond laughed again.

"Alright. I'll see you in Atlantis," Desmond said and popped out. He went and found Mars. After giving her an absolute heart attack and telling her to please not grovel it made him uncomfortable he told her what he'd done and what he needed her to do. She said she'd do it and Desmond went back to Atlantis.

He hadn't been gone long. Half an hour, an hour, tops. The sun was  _just_  starting to rise over the ocean, casting the world into pinks and yellows. People were out in the street, not mixing, but he could hear them talking. He found Od and Baldur. Od had lost part of his leg and half of Baldur's face was bandaged but they were both alive and being flanked by their seconds. They were talking to who Desmond assumed were the leaders of the Adjatev force here on Atlantis. It was surprisingly civil tones from all. He just watched them, not making himself known. Od and Baldur had it under control. There was no more fighting in the street. Desmond let them handle it.

He went and found the others. Altair had managed to calm Hawk down by now and he was very… calm but a bit shell-shocked. Not quite thousand yard stare he was just taking everything in. Jake was still a mess but less so than he had been. Altair and Ezio were both sitting against walls, relaxing as best they could in the cool late October air. "Hey guys," Desmond said, drawing all their attention.

"Desmond, is everything alright?" Altair asked him.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. I killed Chronos, and the leaders of the Adjatevs but that's not why we're talking right now."

"Oh? I figured that was important," Ezio said.

"It is but… look. I don't know when I'm going to be back. Like  _actually_  back in real life and not this psionic presence I am now. I need you  _all_  to not be fucking assholes to Tommy," he said.

"Desmond-

"Don't you 'but Desmond' me," he snapped at Altair, mimicking him with a mocking tone. "He's an innocent and a sweet kid and just because he's a clone and was  _forced_  to do a single bad thing doesn't mean you have to be cruel to him. He did  _one_  bad thing and fooled you into thinking he was me. How many horrible things have you all done that if I knew I would hate you too?" he asked them. They wouldn't look at him. "I've seen what you two are capable of," he pointed at Altair and Ezio, "first hand. I know what it's like in your heads. You're both assholes frankly. But I need you to stop."

"He wanted to kill you-

"So fucking what?  _You've_  almost killed me," Desmond told them. "I have this fucking scar cause of you," he held up his hand with the big scar on the webbing between his thumb and index finger he'd got so long ago in Michigan during a knife fighting exercise with Altair. It had healed just fine but only because Hawk had tended to it. "Whereas Tommy has never actually hurt me. So get your shit together," he put his hand down. "He's my brother, my family. Andrew is dead and all he's got is me now and if you three can pull your heads out of your asses he can have you too."

Altair and Ezio looked at each other. "I honestly didn't care about anyone," Hawk said for the first time and his accent was  _jarring_  for Desmond who was used to his Boston one. "And I missed having a chance to raise my son. So really, I wouldn't mind. Who I was would have, but he's not here anymore. Don't… lump me up with him if you can? If that makes sense? I'm not who I was."

Desmond nodded slowly, "So… what happened to Hawk?"

"He wasn't ever… really a person? He was just trying to keep me alive."

"So you're… not Hawk?"

"No. I'd prefer to be called Micheal now, or Mike, either is fine," he smiled at Desmond and Desmond had never seen that face so  _genuine_  and warm in his life. "Hawk never knew Tommy really, neither do I. I'd like to."

"And you two?" Desmond gave Ezio and Altair the evil eye.

"I'll give him a chance," Ezio said.

Altair just folded his arms moodily "I know. You're very upset your young boyfriend is still in love with me, get over it-

"Desmond, for fuck's sake!" Altair cried even as Ezio howled with laughter so hard he fell over, clutching his side.

"Grow the fuck up," Desmond snapped. "Cain's always telling you to deal with your shit. Well deal with it. If you want to be part of my family you can't just pick and chose who you accept to be part of it."

Altair was surprisingly red-faced. "Ezio would you shut up," Altair snarled at him.

"No way. That was the best thing I've heard in three centuries," Ezio said, laughing so much he was crying.

"Uhggg," Altair groaned, hand over part of his face. "You're a terrible child, tormenting an old man like this," he grumbled.

"You will survive somehow, I'm sure," Desmond said. "Now you going to suck it up?"

Altair sighed. "I guess."

"Good. I'm going to be changing his memories. To be… good. A life we deserved. Don't be a fucking jerk."

"Don't worry  _bambino_ , we'll keep him in line," Ezio said with a teasing smile at Altair. Altair just rolled his eyes.

Desmond nodded and found Tommy with Clay in the camp. Clay had managed to calm Tommy down quite a bit and his brother wasn't sobbing anymore. They were sitting a bit of a ways off from Andrew's body, talking. Desmond made himself known and saw Duncan out of the corner of his eye show up to watch. "Des, you're back," Tommy said.

"I said I would be. I'm not really here here still," he sat down next to them. "I do have a bit more time now."

"Oh. So you can give me back my memories?"

"Yes," Desmond said.

"I'm glad. Clay was telling me some things."

"Yeah?" Desmond asked and Tommy nodded. "About our family?" Tommy nodded again. "Well, that's good. This will take a bit of time, you want to go somewhere else?"

"No. I don't want to leave him," Tommy looked over at their dad. Tommy and Clay had picked him up and laid him out on the floor better so he looked more relaxed and at ease. The cavern was starting to smell of the dead. They'd have to get the bodies out to be buried soon. Desmond would make graves.

"Okay," Desmond said. "Ready to go then?" Tommy nodded and Desmond reached out and touched him.

The first thing Desmond did was find those shades Tommy was Bleeding and deleted them. He didn't care who they were. They were gone. No more Eve. No more anyone. The only one in Tommy's head would be Tommy. Desmond didn't create new memories for Tommy. That would take too long and be so incomplete and inadequate. Rather he put his brother into a deep sleep and constructed a near life-like world inside his own mind down to the most perfect details and recreations of people. He'd done it hundreds of times in the Unnamed and doing so inside Tommy's pliable mind was child's play. He wasn't giving Tommy fake memories. He was just going to let Tommy make his own, acting against a realistic version of himself, Duncan, their parents, and later on he'd meet the others: John, Altair, Ezio, Micheal, and Clay to name a few who he should know. Desmond took liberties with his parents, so Andrew was less abusive and Kaley was present at all to begin with. Desmond also constructed puppet humans who Tommy would see as people but weren't people. They'd just be people Tommy knew but couldn't  _really_  remember. Desmond would use the excuse that he could fix a lot but not everything.

Tommy would live an accelerated life in his dreams over the next day or so. It was, effectively, like making him Bleed himself. But all the memories were his. It would allow him to become more of a person, have memories of a life before this. The memories he'd make with this would always be foggy. Despite Desmond's perfect recreations actual memory was tricky and imperfect. Tommy would probably only remember half of this and hardly any details. There would be no memories of culture, just family and maybe some friends, the feeling of the monotony of school but not the knowledge learned it. They were tastes of reality but would be enough. It would make Tommy happy to remember these things and that was all Desmond could hope for.

He blinked a bunch as he came out of his brother's mind. Tommy was slumped over and Clay had put him in a more comfortable position. "How long was I doing that for?"

"About ten minutes," Clay said.

Desmond nodded. "Clay, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What should I do? Like… how do I help mend all this hurt between humans and proeathans?"

"Tommy told me about what Andrew said at the end. What you saw. What was that really?"

"An AI who took on the likeness of my dead brother. Meant to be familiar but unnerving to make me think about what I do in the Unnamed."

"Hmmm. Well. I talked to Andrew a lot you know. I tried to help him mend the bond that was broken between you two. He didn't really succeed but he tried. He tried because despite all the animosity between you he did love you. That doesn't excuse what he did but it is part of him. Humans are like that, they have a great capacity within them for destruction, and to love each other. In all our terrible ways. That's one thing I've learned through my long genetic memories is no matter what happened to our people, even during our enslavement to the proeathans, we loved each other. And proeathans saw that as weakness. But it isn't weakness.

"You're a compassionate person, Desmond. For all the shit you've done and even when you do some stupid or violent things you do so because you want to protect things you love. That's how most humans are. We act stupid because we care too much. Proeathans act stupid because they don't care enough. That means we can't understand each other. There will always be this… gap between our species because proeathans don't feel the same way we do. They lack basic empathy. It's the one thing we learned from proeathans really, the worst thing; to be selfish. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone understood and loved each other instead? So there wouldn't be horrible things that happened anymore?" Clay asked him.

Desmond had a creeping understanding. Really. Honestly. He was the worst guy for the job. He was all brute force. He liked punching shit to make it work. He wasn't always subtle. "I don't know if I can do that," Desmond said.

"Well. Why don't you try?" Clay asked. "No one will blame you for trying."

Desmond nodded slowly. He wasn't sure what to do now. "Look after Tommy. The others will come soon I'm sure. He'll be asleep for a while and won't wake until he's finished."

"I'll take care of him," Clay promised. "That's what humans do, we take care of each other."

Desmond had a feeling Clay was trying to impart wisdom to him. "I'll be back. I don't know when," and he was gone.

He was nowhere. Well. He was back on the moon. He sat in the shade of a crater and watched the Earth. Duncan stood next to him. "What's on your mind, Seventeen?" he asked Desmond.

"Can I do that? Can I connect with everyone in the world like that?"

"Maybe before the proeathans woke you couldn't. Ten billion beings is a lot to ask for, even for your mind. The world's smaller now, though." Ten billion. He must have meant the sleeping proeathans.

"Are there more proeathans out there? Ones that weren't killed in their sleep? That are still out there, waiting?"

"I don't know. You would have to look."

Desmond said nothing, he just drew his knees up to his chest. "It'd be nice if there was no more fighting."

"It would be," Duncan agreed.

"That everyone could just be free. That's what I was raised to think. That people had the right to do what they wanted, to be alive and not be subjugated. Funny though. I was subjugated. Somewhere along the way the Assassins forgot that we should be free too."

"You're free now," Duncan reminded him. "Both sides are more or less dead."

"And proeathans took the place of Templars."

"The matter of your feud wasn't over ideology, it was over the way you accomplished your goals. The Templars wanted peace for all through control and order where a few would make the decisions, the Assassins wanted peace for all through control and order where the many could decide their own fates. It was what made your paths seemingly incompatible. But you both want the same thing. Humans and proeathans are the same. They want the same things. They want a world safe to raise their children and with less hardship than they knew in their lives. Proeathans just went about it in a way that was destructive to humans and humans went about it in a way that was destructive to themselves because they had forgotten any other way. They forgot who they were before they came upon the proeathans when your kind was just starting to become yourselves," Duncan said.

"But they want the same thing," Desmond said. "But proeathans can't feel what we feel."

"And you can't feel the way proeathans feel," Duncan said.

"Is one way better?"

"I have had proeathan  _stadalla_  come through my gate, and human, and hybrid and synthetic. They came either in tears or in wonder but neither species that came showed me one way was better over the other. Proeathans just don't accept that your way is valid and that is why you have fought for so long. You seek validity as Assassins sought validity that their way was correct over the Templars who through force of will insisted that theirs was superior. Neither is better, it's just a matter of making everyone understand that both ways are good."

Desmond stared at the planet. He watched it spin for several hours. He knew time was passing but this wasn't something to be rushed. If he was going to do something it had to be right. He had one chance to make a first impression. One chance to show everyone that they were better for their empathy, for their feelings, for their love. That just because the world was one way didn't mean it had to be that way. That it couldn't become a better way.

Desmond reached out and felt the minds of the world. He found them all. Every last one from the smallest human child to the oldest proeathan. Some stronger physics noticed when he touched their minds but most were oblivious. Especially the humans who were all trying to prepare to survive the next cold winter in the northern hemisphere and trying to find enough supplies before the next winter in the southern hemisphere. He even found humans that were untouched by the struggle that had taken place in their world the past six years. Isolated pockets of humanity where nothing had changed in thousands of years. That made him happy. That even when the world was falling down around their ears there were still people in jungles so far removed from the rest of civilization that not even the proeathans could touch or harm them. Or at least they hadn't gotten that far yet.

This was new for him and not easy at all. To touch probably two and a half billion minds all at once. And when he connected to each new one for a flash he saw through their eyes. A billion single, still, images that lasted an instant. A lot of it was darkness from people sleeping, but there were a lot of people awake. Once he'd connected to everyone he sent out a wave of sympathy to them. That he saw them, in these personal moments, and knew their hardship and sympathized with their needs. That got a lot of proeathans to take notice. Many stopped what they were doing and looked around in confusion.

The next part was tricker but as important, maybe more so. Desmond had a big heart. Always had. He tried not to care about people and when he'd been captured pretended he really didn't give a shit about any of these people but the truth was so far from reality it was comical. The truth was Desmond craved attention. Craved platonic and romantic intimacy and affection. He wanted to be important. He wanted his feelings to matter. Even before he used to give any little extra money he had to homeless people and made sure drunk guys didn't bother girls at work and just so many little things he did because he didn't not care about people around him. He cared a lot. It was almost like his  _job_  to give a shit. He knew other people had big hearts too and were kind and generous and giving and he thought of those people. Those people still alive now doing more for others than they needed to because they loved and thought the best of others. Because they wanted to leave the world better than when they'd come into it.

It started slow, and it started with the proeathans. He let them  _feel_  empathy. He let them feel what it felt like to be human. To know someone's feelings by looking or hearing, to care about another's feelings deeply. He let them feel the sort of love and compassion humans shared with each other all the time. For no reason other than because they were two humans together. The feeling was filled with love and acceptance and gratitude and all the things you couldn't qualify with words when a stranger was nice to you or when your parents bought you a new toy or eating your favorite food or when you helped someone with something they struggled with. All the little good feelings that came with being human that proeathans couldn't feel and had never felt. Whatever proeathans were doing at the moment stopped. He felt that. He felt them struggle with these alien feelings. Many broke down into horrible sobbing and it wasn't their fellow proeathans who wondered what was wrong with them and tried to comfort them; it was the humans. Because when you saw someone suddenly burst into tears you wanted to help them. That was the human thing to do.

Then it spread out to the humans. Just a warm sense of love. Because Desmond did love them. That was why he was doing this. Because despite all the  _shit_  they had done and the evils that had happened in the world, people at their core and souls were good, honest, loving beings.

He felt it less on the individual level and more on a great scale. He felt it as a psionic outcry from humans. They probed out into the universe, 'God/Allah/YHWH?' and a greater multitude of that. Desmond didn't answer them. He just kept giving them the same warm feeling of acceptance. Desmond slowly shifted the feelings he was projecting around into other things. Not just directed at humans but at proeathans. That they weren't enemies and that humans weren't just animals. That they were more than they appeared and there didn't need to be all this fighting when it was better like this. It was better like how they felt now.

For a moment, the world came to a halt as the entire population of Earthlings finally could understand what it was like to know each other. The feeling lasted several minutes before Desmond started to slowly pull back of empathy so people could control themselves. He left the minds of the proeathans and stayed with the humans. Some of the humans. Those that had been untouched by proeathans he left alone so they could continue their lives uninterrupted. So many were curious about him. They knew it was something. They called out to god. Was he god? What was he? Where was he? Was he going to leave them? Please don't go.

"Don't be afraid," he said into all of their minds. "The world isn't for you to be afraid of anymore. I have a place waiting for you. Go there and I will see you safe," and he put the image and location of Atlantis into their minds. "There will be proeathans but I will keep you safe."

Who was he? Where was he? What was he? Was he god? Did this validate their faith? Why had he taken so long to answer their prayers?

"I am you. You are me. We are each other. Come to this place I have made, you will be safe. Come to the shores and you'll be taken to where it's safe. Where life is somewhat how it used to be." That made so many people happy. That they wouldn't have to struggle and toil just to live like they once had. "I will see you all soon. I love you." He pulled the rest of the way out of their minds.

Desmond was still sitting on the moon. "That was interesting," Duncan said. Desmond wiped his eyes. He was crying again. Fucking god he hated crying so much. He was the ugliest crier and was really glad no one was there to see him then. No one except Duncan who was more curious than anything. "What are you going to do now?"

"What I promised. Now, I have a city to make," he said. He wiped his eyes and face one more time, swallowing down his tears. At least they'd been happy tears, not sad tears. He appeared back in Atlantis, sitting on the top of the edge of the Unnamed. Below him were dozens of humans and proeathans. The hours he'd been gone had helped. Earthlings were starting to mingle. At least they had been before Desmond had just done what he'd done. As he did all the eyes of the surrounding proeathans and humans went up to him. The proeathans who were still standing and not sobbing on the ground pointed up at him. Humans stared up at him, knowing him. The trained angels looked shocked, confused. They knew him and they'd known his mind as soon as he'd touched them. It was the Angel's demon. But here he was… not as they expected. Those who didn't somehow knew, just from looking at him, that  _he_  was the one who'd been with them just now.

He smiled a little when he saw Mary suddenly realize it really  _was_  him and raised her arm and started waving at him. "You crazy asshole, you did it!" Mary's voice just barely carried up to him. That made Desmond grin wider. Yeah. He had done it. That got the other humans waving because that was what humans did, they celebrated together even if they didn't  _really_  understand why. And Mary, a powerful psychic in her own right, was celebrating this guy, so they should too because Mary knew more than them. Slowly, the proeathans upright started mimicking the humans who were starting to get rowdy. They  _also_  started waving but didn't understand  _at all_  what was going on or why they were doing it. That made Desmond so fucking happy. It had worked. His stupid fucking plan by the skin of his teeth had  _worked_.

He waved down back to them. Then, into each of their ears, he said, "You wanna see something fucking cool?" in whatever mother tongue they called their own. That made the humans jump but also got them more excited. First, they'd won. Then they'd had a massive empathetic bonding experience and  _now_  something cool was going to happen? You might as well have told them it was Christmas. He could feel the excitement ripple off of them which in turn made those who weren't excited turn excited. The proeathans didn't understand. They'd heard him but didn't have the collective feeling of excitement and joy humans had.

Desmond got to his feet on the edge of the Unnamed. He raised his arms for effect because this was supposed to be cool. Everyone shrunk away and then looked around in awe as Desmond raised his arms and slowly started tearing the ancient city of Atlantis apart.


	100. I am the Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best birthday present to myself is this monster right here being DONE. Can tick that 'completed' check box boiiiiiiiii~
> 
> And… this is it guys. Chapter 100, the last chapter of the Flocking Movement quartet. First chapter went up early Feb 2011. Six and a half years and 631k words (not including Legacy and Tincture) later we're at the end. I had a stress dream about posting this chapter too lols.

Desmond opened his eyes. He squinted against the harsh whiteness of the Unnamed. He could hear the dull hum of the monolith and he turned his head. Lucy was sitting on the dais, facing away from him, entertaining herself with a memory wall. She was literally watching a rerun of Friends. Desmond coughed when he laughed and Lucy turned around quickly. "Desmond! You're awake," she got up.

"Yeah," he groaned. His mouth felt like it was full of wool and his head… his head felt empty. It felt clear for the first time in years. He hadn't taken Altair and Ezio out entirely but he had done some trimming. Tiamat had helped him, Altair had helped him. The threat of anything else Bleeding through was gone now. It was just him in his own head. He hadn't been alone in his own mind in  _years_. It was refreshing. He'd missed it.

She came over to him. "You were gone a while," she said.

"Yeah? You get through a season of Friends?" he asked dryly. His mouth was so dry.

"Only a few episodes," she said with a slight smile. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "I missed you." Desmond groaned and sat up. His back cracked and popped. The chair swung down and around so he could slip off and onto his feet. He'd forgotten how to hold himself up and crashed right onto the floor with a hard bang. "Are you okay?" Lucy asked, bending down quickly to check on him.

"Fuck. Yeah. I'm okay. I'm okay," he assured her. "I just… well, I just was sort of teleporting around for a while or fake walking. I forgot how legs worked. Heh. That's dumb. Thanks," he added when Lucy grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him to his feet. As she did he rose up part of the floor to act as a balancer. He leaned on it instead of her to get his footing.

"You do it?" Lucy asked.

"Well. I did something," Desmond said. "Duncan, how long was I in there?"

"In which reality?" Duncan asked, appearing to the side.

"Both. How long was Lucy waiting for me?"

"About eight hours. Even my capabilities have their limits when you were gone for an entire year."

"Really? A year? I was out there for a  _year_?" Desmond asked.

"Yes."

"Didn't feel like a year."

"It shouldn't have. It should have felt like eight hours," Duncan said sarcastically.

"Oh, Desmond, you've become a terrible influence on him," Lucy said, still holding onto Desmond's arm to keep him upright.

"I mean, that's kinda my thing; being a bad influence," he grinned at her and then leaned down a bit and kissed her. "I missed you too, honey," he added. "I do need a nap first," he sighed.

"A nap? You were laying down for eight hours," she teased him.

"Yeah but it's like the Animus, kinda. My brain was active the entire time. For an entire year I didn't sleep or rest. I'm  _exhausted_. The world can manage for a few hours while I rest, right?"

"It can," she agreed. "What did you do?" she asked and helped him off the dais. Desmond's legs were still wobbly but it wasn't as bad as when he'd forgotten how to walk a few years ago. It was mostly his brain just needed to remember how to hold himself. By the time they'd taken a few steps off the dais he'd mostly remembered and could walk on his own again.

"A lot. So much. I don't even know where to start," Desmond said.

"Well give me the best bits and you can tell me the rest later," she said.

"I destroyed the angel vessels. Every single one. It was  _crazy_  the level of psionic joy that happened when they all cracked open at once. People who can't do stuff, yet, could hear them. It was like a great sigh of relief."

Lucy smiled at him, "That's good. That's wonderful," she said, joining him and pressing up next to him.

"Yeah." Desmond made a simple room, closing them off from the dais and Duncan, and a bed in it. He fell onto it with a happy groan before continuing. "I had the AI except for Demeter brought here. Oh, did they show up Duncan? I did tell Micheal to bring them."

"A crate was shoved through a week ago while you were building the East Watch," Duncan's voice said.

"Good. I need to figure out a thing for them. They're AI from a long war ago. Other than Demeter they don't have a purpose anymore," Desmond's eyes fluttered open and closed.

"What were you building?" she asked. "That's it, then you can sleep for a little while," she promised and kissed his cheek.

"I gave us a better world to live in. All of us to live in," Desmond said. He closed his eyes but didn't sleep quite yet. Around them along the walls erupted in the scene of a city. It was small still and there was one large building, but it was a lovely little city. The big building was an impossible shape that curled around the Unnamed on the hill like protective arms that both circled the Unnamed and the little city of Atlantis. Desmond had raised the entire city and rebuilt it from the ruins. The building around the Unnamed was supposed to be like a pair of arms encircling the city warmly. There were people in the city, moving about, and numia flying overhead. The majority population was proeathan but there were a lot of humans and more humans were arriving every day, drawn to the place Desmond had told them to come. All that time in the Unnamed had paid off. The city was neatly organized and elegant to look at, the houses different enough to not be creepy but fairly simple. As time went on the houses would be changed he was sure. Things weren't quite in a grid because that was boring but there was order to its shape. Down the hill in the distance was the start of farmland. Desmond had dragged tons and tons and tons of soil and silt from the ocean floor and the mainland to cover Atlantis in enough soil to support plants again. On the other side of the island was a massive graveyard, the gravestones tighter together than a normal graveyard because of how Desmond had dug the holes. There were still empty plots, so if people had left loved ones on the mainland they could be brought over for burial. There was also a monument filled with the names of the dead who hadn't been able to be buried. They were names written in every language, from everyone who remained alive keeping the memory of who they'd lost alive.

"Oh, Desmond. It's wonderful," Lucy said, sitting up some to look at the panorama.

Desmond smiled. "I thought so too," he gave a little tug on her so she'd come lay down with him once she'd had a chance to take it in. "I made it better," he said kissing her.

"I knew you could," she said and cupped his face with one hand.

"And I figured something else."

"Hmm?"

"I know how to make people immortal. Not like Ezio and Altair but like Clay."

"You did?" she asked, eyes a bit wide.

Desmond nodded slowly. "Yes. So I was wondering… do you want me to do that to us?"

"That's a lot to ask, Desmond."

"Yeah, but we've been together a long time already and you haven't gotten sick of me yet," he chuckled.

"I don't know."

"Or just long enough to give you a normal lifespan," he held her close to him. "So you don't have to leave us so soon," he rubbed his nose against hers.

Lucy knew what he was getting at. She smiled. "That sounds okay. But you sure you'd want to spend forever with a synth?"

"How about you and forever with a walking, talking, glow stick?" he wiggled his eyebrows a little at her and that made her laugh. Then he yawned widely.

"You did good," she said, stroking his face. "You did so good, I'm so proud of you," she kissed him and that felt so nice. So nice he did it twice but his mouth was tired. "You get some rest and you can do all the rest when you wake up," she said. He nodded sleepily. She stroked his hair and he closed his eyes.

"I love you," he mumbled even as he started to fade, his arm around the woman he made entire worlds for.

-Fin-


End file.
